To be fair, I may have gotten it hammered drunk a few times. And I have possibly exposed it to one or two adult situations that, were my inner child registered with the state, would have seen me locked up for endangerment. But I swear I never laid a hand on the little Christer with the level of abuse that politicians have.
They gave it candy and chips, and made promises about better services, reasonable behaviour and tax dollars in safe hands. And when its back was turned, they kicked it down a set of stairs, got drunk and banged its mom. (That’s me.)
That’s really all I have to say.
That, and isn’t it odd that I refer to my inner child as an it? Not really when you gaze upon this picture of me as a toddler:
Me on the right...the one that looks like a boy with a vision impaired stylist.
Ah there we go. The death is complete.
[...] My love of politicians and their toadies aside, a campaign is now afoot to make this facility permanent. To give downtown Halifax an outdoor recreational facility the likes of which we have never seen. And I, for one, am going to do whatever I can to support this campaign. And when I say “whatever I can” you know that I mean “flail heartily at opponents with the flat of my foot.” Or “sit in my comfy chair and write a blog post.” [...]