I was hoping to take this week kind of easy.
The summer heat’s been F’N up my sleep and I’ve gotten my ass hopelessly addicted to binge-watching season 3 of Orange Is The New Black.
But this of course, is St. Jean Baptiste week and what would this week be if we didn’t have the ire of chest-thumping nationalism showing us just how retrograde and what little the “OUI” vote has to offer Quebec society.
Where to begin?
Oh yeah… I’m not going to get into this one. You’ll just have to read it and make what you will from it.
I WANT you to do drugs…
Don’t know about you, but I’ve done lots of drugs in my lifetime.
Started pretty early too.
You know what’s really ironic?
My parents always told me: “Don’t you ever do drugs!”
My school principal would always tell us: “Don’t you ever do drugs!”
The police visiting our school would also say: “Don’t you ever do drugs!”
That just made me even more curious and it was inevitable that I would eventually get my first taste.
Anyone who understands anything about psychology knows that coercion very often leads to the exact outcome you were hoping to suppress.
You’d figure that Longueil mayor Carole St. Hilaire, a mother of four, if I’m not mistaken would understand this premise.
Clearly she does not.
That’s why she published the following outburst on Face de Bouk regarding a Longueil councillor’s insistence on delivering his discourses in both languages:
“C’est pourtant simplement une question de bon sens et de respect: 96 % de la population de Longueuil comprend le français, il n’a donc pas besoin de traduire systématiquement tous ses propos en anglais, chaque fois qu’il prend la parole, sous prétexte qu’il veut être compris par l’ensemble de la population. Nous sommes au Québec et les délibérations au conseil de ville DOIVENT se dérouler en français”
She was met with criticism for her remarks.
St. Hilaire doesn’t like being questioned on her political leanings, so she called the criticism “intimidation”, “threats” and “insults”.
Well, I do have some good news for St. Hilaire – this fading underwear stain of a dead movement is not alone in her struggle to accept the reality of modern Quebec. Full story can be read here, courtesy of PKP Media.
Fuck L’Anglais, Tabarnak!
Sophie Durocher must have forgotten what shit tastes like.
Sure didn’t take her long.
Feels like just yesterday that she penned a petty, biased diatribe against Jay Baruchel where she generally pissed on his name for having the ‘audacity’ to move to Toronto.
Maybe Sophie couldn’t find a date for Holy Separatist Day and her resulting frustration inspired her to lash out at the English community yet again.
What I love best is that our dear Sophie admits she frequents the businesses she names in her ‘column’ and yet feels a need to slander them in the same breath.
While St. Jean Baptiste was meant to inspire pride and celebration, it now flames the rage that plagues the dying breed that is the Pur-et-Dur.
This is all the more reason to believe the movement is finished – it’s core promoters aren’t even trying to look civil anymore.
Happy St. Jean, Sophie!
If I see you on July 1st (you know, that day we celebrate a REAL country), I’ll buy you a hotdog and a Pepsi. Totally NSA 🙂