Maybe now after our cringeworthy Chief Finagler has finally fled the degraded CoN for the toxic dustbowl of Trailer who will worship his unnatural brand of jackboot economics, weʼll miraculously get a head penny-pincher that will freely choose to support the handful of wise women outside the colonial courthouse in their benevolent quest for society to provide a basic universal living income to our unprivileged citizens who are suffering daily from poverty and persecution within minutes of Shitty Hall; wherein, Count Ghouls loves to bless himself for creating such a sadistic haven of racist snobs, while the Omaʼs-Cron Kaiju is wreaking havoc all over the place with no civic warnings or signs that they give a crap about anything other than their stained corporationʼs tainted bottom-line. Was Don Ghoulieʼs overly defensive Consigliere in cahoots with the Creel Mafia as it seemed in his reenactment of Hamletʼs play-within-a-play, with him choosing to play guilty Claudius in a recorded video posted on the neo-CoNʼs website? Weʼll likely never know what McCrudeʼs role was in Railtown now that heʼs fled to Trailer with his tail between his legs like the bad lapdog he is who never had the courage to properly resign.
At present, the pigheaded CoN is obsessing once again over how to perform its public propaganda meetings with some form of ethical morality, despite its repeated sociopathic failures. Meanwhile, the Autonomous Sinixt and other concerned defenders of this stolen land sacrifice their lifestyles to riskily protest the destruction of yet another old-growth watershed rainforest lost under the lurid watch of our Ghoulish Leprechaun who sits up in his brutish white-walled castle of doom conspiring how to best screw over his voters for the sake of the manly Man.
Nothing is going right in the cryptic Con, if you add up the pandemic destructions, the wildfire-blackened tourism and lungs, the constant deadly drug crises, the rampant poverty and homelessness, the suicide epidemic, the serious dip in local student literacy & the ongoing decline of our performing arts scene, etc..
Tragically, if you take their unmasked duplicities at face value, the boneheaded CoN is publicizing how they have a couple of WASPy linchpins tasked with handpicking the few among the clamouring masses who get to bow before Pope Ghoulie to kiss his imperial ring and slobber his knob. Just like a medieval court in a despotʼs fiefdom, Lord Ghouls himself decrees how “discretion was used as to who appeared on the agenda for the meeting”, given the “flexibility allowed between the corporate officer and the mayor”, as noted by Councillor Pager based on, “section 4.7: the corporate officer and mayor hold the authority to schedule presentations as according to the nature and priority of the presentation subject matter”.
To hear the predictably unkind white blonde woman who is the Ghoulie Gangʼs brainwashed Corporate Offender blithely admit that she and her imperialistic boss “often have a (presumably unaccountable and one-sided) conversation about presentations, their length, how long the discussion by council might take” as justification for their strict cap of three exclusive presentations per community meeting, youʼd think that they have no idea how discriminatory their willful ignorance of multiracial democracy sounds to anyone who is not a deviant kowtower to the Queenʼs English nightmare; which still lives on in the bright of day, due to such vampiric Manmorons with their lofty pretensions and delusions of grandeur. The Dear Leader of the deceptive CoNʼs mask drops when he tyrannically confesses, “we have control over them, but we have no control over us, and thatʼs where it breaks down”. This autocratic lament by one of the whitest white-men who has ever stood against our First Nations unearths his fetishistic enjoyment of control over the collective ʻthemʼ, while betraying how much it disturbs him to surrender any actual power to the faux-liberal Potemkin facade that whitewashes his inborn fascism.
Only now are the landed gentry deigning to propose an appeal process for their petitioners who are rejected by the anti-Indigenous white nationalist gatekeepers in charge of the elitist Ghoulie Court. So if they donʼt want to self-snitch on themselves, or time-stamp how ignorant and bigoted they are in 2022, itʼs far too late to propose “that (spurned) requests be referred to a council committee or advisory body”. Imagine that! Something Grandmaster Ghouls and his Jester Barbie authoritatively banished with their boomer cultʼs complicit consent might have a chance to be heard by hearts and minds apart from the rich phantom menaces who are driving this lurching jalopy into the contaminated ground with their conceited deceits.
Hilariously, the Ghouliesʼ Moll attempts to pass off their inhumane dictatorial censorships as being beneficial to the lowly pawns whom they despise and fear when she bleats, “any time weʼve had more than three, you know, you have been sitting here past 10 oʼclock at night (heaven forbid!)… and then the presenter has to sit here until 9:30 before they can present. It really doesnʼt make good sense”. Chiming in on the same coercive company-line, the City Mangler double-speaks, “picking up on that point, that is why we limit it to the three… we are trying to create that avenue that there are appropriate questions”. And to make it a discordant trinity of unholy disunity, Major Ghouls illogically crows, “a lot of good things have come out of these over the years, which probably wouldnʼt have happened had we not allowed it”. Notice their totalitarian royal-we usage of ʻappropriateʼ (according to whom?) and ʻallowedʼ (by whom?). In light of these dishonourable admissions, the question begs to be asked: what happened to all those exiled ʻgood thingsʼ that didnʼt ʻcome outʼ over the years, and wonʼt do so, in light of the shady CoNʼs self-centred omissions and confessed suppression of critical matters that they patronizingly deem not important enough to keep them up past their coffin-in-crypt bedtimes?
Forget about our dying forests, viral spikes, overdose disasters & housing crises, the ghastly Ghoulies cry! Letʼs harp on meeting procedures that shouldʼve been solved decades ago in the last century, where all of these foreseeable fiascos shouldʼve been left behind where they belong. Letʼs delay a single-use plastics ban for another time, while our civil volunteers do the job we should do by cleaning up the lakeshore trash. Let the poor country folks fret over our threatened drinking water and scarred landscapes, weʼve got small ‘city’ protocols and police-state procedurals to obsess over like the backwater bureaucratic wonks we are!
Itʼs been said that the clerks are killing us, and itʼs hard not to glare their way when they glibly cash their public-purse paycheques without being willing to cede any of their own privileged comforts, even when it means they could change someoneʼs life just by showing up and listening. As per usual, stooges like Pager portray a concerned politician whoʼs there for his neighbours, but somehow Ghoulie & the Gang always get their coldhearted way.
When an hour or two every couple of weeks becomes a sticking point beyond salvation for a despicable brand of weakling bullies, you know that youʼre living in a corporate-fluffing pyramidal hierarchy that prefers to shut you down if youʼve got anything real to talk about which they donʼt like. Will things change in the uncivil capstone for the better now that they act like they want a check on their powers, in the form of an appeals board who may just dare to question their unchecked power? Nope, not a hope in Ghoulieville!
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