Simon Fraser (IV)

Dear G20 Protest Organizers, a piece of advice: next time don’t show up, don’t protest.

Because inaction as action would have acutely demonstrated to everybody how wasteful and counter-productive the top 20 economies of the world actually are.

Had there been no protests or protesters, no visible action, no civil disobedience for the mainstream media to twist into hyperbole, then there would have been a billion dollars spent on security, solely to arrest one confused homeless guy with a crossbow.

And then you’d have had millions – literally, MILLIONS – more voices closer to your side of the socio-economic debate in which you’re entangled.

Fires are extinguished with water, not with gasoline. If G20 security forces had had nothing and nobody from which to protect the G20 leaders, their presence would have been so obviously unwarranted.

As it is, the protests and riots and vandalism completely justified the presence of ridiculously over-reaching security measures.

You blew it.

Here’s a letter I just emailed to my MP. If you think that you could use all or some of this to convince your MP to do what they were hired to do, please take all or some of it…

Hello Olivia,

I don’t believe we’ve met but I am one of the people who hired you in the last election.

It has recently come to my attention that a man by the name of Stephen Harper has been urging you and all your fellow employees to not show up for work on January 25th.

I don’t know who this guy thinks he is. Apparently, he was hired by 17,296 delegates of something called “the Conservative Party” (which does not sound like a fun party at all). At any rate, you and your fellow employees do not answer to him. You answer to your employers, collectively known as Canada.

I can assure you, Olivia, that when I hired you, it was *NOT* to not show up for work.

In fact, you were hired for the explicit purpose of not only showing up for work but also, upon showing up, actually doing the work that came with the job. In short, you were hired because you were the most qualified candidate for this job.

This Harper guy has said that you and all your fellow employees shall return to work on March 3rd. Again, I don’t know who he thinks he is, but January 25th is the date that was previously agreed upon for you and your fellow employees to return to work.

I strongly urge you to ignore this Harper guy’s requests to not show up for work on January 25th. I strongly urge you to do the job for which you were hired – honourably representing the collective will of your fellow citizens.

For while showing up for work on January 25th might now seem like it will be a lonely affair, I can guarantee you that not showing up for work on January 25th will be much lonelier in the long run. The wrong choice on January 25th will become a permanent part of your work record.

I’m sure you’re aware that the next time Canada is hiring, your work record will be one of the items taken into consideration. If you did not do the job for which you were hired, saddened as it might make me, I simply would not be able to renew your contract.

Thank you for your time, Olivia. Please take the next 17 days to rest up so you can start 2010 fresh and focused.

Yours truly,
sf

Guerrillas cause excessive chaos.
Juntas cause excessive order.

Why is it that the political right always castrates itself? Given that all they really have is balls, it seems painfully ironic.

Yesterday, in response to the recent electoral protests in Iran, Grand Ayatollah Sayyid Ali Hoseyni Khāmene’i addressed a circus tent full of men who all looked relatively the same – much like a Republican convention, where even the women look like stodgy Caucasian men desperate to hang on to their semblance of Old World power. But I digress.

Thomson Reuters reported on the speech by Khāmene’i, excerpting several pieces of the monologue that seemed noteworthy, such as, “… I am urging them to end street protests, otherwise they will be responsible for its consequences, and consequences of any chaos…” and “… If there is any bloodshed, leaders of the protests will be held directly responsible.”

While – yes – Thomson Reuters is a Western news source that is not necessarily friendly to the Iranian establishment and – yes – these quotes are excerpted from their original context, neither of these facts affect the point I am about to make.

Cause watch me now; I’m going to except them even further.

“… they will be responsible for its consequences…”

“… leaders of the protests will be held directly responsible…”

Did you catch that? Did you hear what just happened?

Essentially, what Khāmene’i has done is placed all the responsibility for the outcome of these protests – all of it, positive and negative – on to his adversaries. No matter how many people are killed by riot police or secret police, no matter how many are left maimed or made into refugees, no matter how much bloodshed results, there ain’t no flies on the Ayatollah.

But if his adversaries have all the responsibility, then Khāmene’i must have no responsibility. And if Khāmene’i has no responsibility, then dig this – he has no power. Allow me to italicize this for emphasis – the Supreme Leader of Iran has abdicated all power. In much the same way, the wielder of a gun has no power if they cannot take responsibility for (i.e. control) their weapon. Eventually, they will shoot themselves in the face.

And like most right-wing extremists, he did it to himself. All that’s left to happen now is for several thousand individuals to be murdered so that these fundamentalist numb skulls can express their fear with bullets. Because the Ayatollah has no responsibility, I assume the triggers will simply go off by themselves. Good luck to all those in their line of sight.

Sayyid Ali Hoseyni Khāmene’i, the Ayatollah of… fizzle fizzle ssssssssss…

I work in a government office for the government. And I do general office labor for a certain set of fellow government workers. And one day, one of the other government workers asked me to send out one hundred and sixty booklets. And I was to send them to the four different regional offices, forty to each office. So I needed four boxes.

So I went to the mailroom and I told them that I needed four boxes to send four packages to the four regional offices. And they stared at me. And they said that I would have to go talk to Rodney, the box guy I guess.

So I went and found Rodney and I told him that I needed four boxes to send four packages to the four regional offices. You have to make it very simple for these people. So I asked Rodney for these boxes and he said, “Four boxes, okay.”

And then he started wandering around the office looking for four boxes. Like I couldn’t have done that myself.

So I stopped him and I said, “Look, Rodney, isn’t there a place where you would keep boxes stored?”

“Yeah, the storage room.” he said.

“Should we look there?” I asked him.

So Rodney took me to the storage room. And he went in and started looking around for four boxes. And I could see two boxes right down at my feet that were the right size. So I asked him, “What about these boxes?”

And he said, “I thought you wanted four.”

Now I didn’t want to pressure him. So I said, “Well, I’ll take these two now and you can get back to me with two more.”

“Two more? I’ll have to go downstairs to get them.”

“Okay, no problem, you go downstairs, you get back to me.”

“Okay.”

So I took these two boxes back and started getting two of the parcels ready. And then I realized that the booklets were already in two boxes, different-sized boxes, large enough for eighty booklets, but they would do. I didn’t need perfectly-sized boxes.

So I called Rodney back and I said, “Look, about those two other boxes, I don’t need them anymore. I already have the two boxes the booklets came in. So I don’t need any more boxes.”

“What?”

“I don’t need the two boxes.”

“Okay,” he said, “whatever.”

So I packed up the four boxes, two of the small size, two of the large. And I put them on the dolly, the large ones on the bottom because, you know, gravity. And I took them to the mailroom and I told them, “I need you to send these four boxes to the four regional offices.”

And as I was about to leave, the lady stopped me and said, “Well, they’re two different sizes.”

I said, “Yeah… so?”

“Well, they won’t fit in the bags.”

“And?”

“Well, we can’t send them, they won’t fit in the bags.”

“Well, you’re the mailroom; you know, the mailroom handles the mail. What am I supposed to do with them?”

“Well, you’ll have to go talk to Rodney about this.”

So I went and found Rodney again. And I told him, “Look, alright, I’m sending these four boxes to the four regional offices and the mailroom won’t take them because they won’t fit in the bags.”

“Why are you telling me?” he asked. “You should talk to the mailroom about this.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I took them to the mailroom. They won’t take them. They don’t fit in the bags. They told me to come to you.”

“Come with me,” he said. So I followed him… to the mailroom.

And then he started arguing with the lady. “These boxes are being mailed.”

“Well, they won’t fit in the bags.”

“Well, we’re trying to mail them.”

“But they won’t fit in the bags.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too big.”

“They’re different sizes.”

“Well, two of them will fit but those two larger ones won’t.”

“Can we send two?”

“Yes, two of them will fit.”

“What about the other two?”

“No, they won’t fit.”

Suddenly, in a fit of impulsiveness, Rodney walked off. So I was left alone with the mailroom lady.

“Look,” I said, “can I atleast put them in the mailroom? You know, this is the mailroom and these are mail. Can I just put them in here until we figure out–”

“Yes, fine, bring them in here.”

So I picked them up and they’re pretty heavy. And she guided me in and said, “Um… okay… um… put them… um… here!”

So I dropped them in the middle of the mailroom, wondering if in a few hours later, they would be covered with, with, with a tablecloth and a deck of cards.

And do you know what the mailroom lady said to me? Do you know what she had the gall to say? She said to me, “You know, we’re going to have to send these out regular mail.”

“Fine!” I screamed.

“Whatever!” I screamed at her.

“Send them however you want, you dumbfucker!” I cursed her.

“What’s the matter with you? Don’t you know who I am?!” I asked her.

“I’m the Anti-Christ!” I informed her. “I’m the goddamn Anti-Christ!!!”

And then, that was when they fired me.

But that’s okay.

That’s alright.

Because now I’ve got a new job now.

I’m working at the post office.