September 13th, 2021


(no subject)

God I hate elections. I hated elections even before I became crippled but now when the telephone rings four times a day and the doorbell rings twice and I have to limp from my bedroom to answer the first and up and down stairs to answer the second, and half the time the telephone is some bright young thing asking for John or Bob or Richard, I am sooo tempted to make a rule that I won't vote for any party that canvasses me. Which doesn't let me off voting, of course, just means that I have to vote Green.

Am pretty sure BYT no.1 was from the NDP whose hope springs eternal that that erstwhile stalwart (from the 70s and 80s) John Johnson will come back to their ever-loving arms, which after Bob Rae's gov't thirty years ago is not going to happen. But they go looking for him in the phone book(!) on my street, find a J Johnson, and happily conclude that I am he. No idea where they got Bob or Richard from. Someone gave a canvasser a fake number, as one does to importunate men in bars?