PROTESTS AT MONTEBELLO: WEIRD STUFF FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BARRICADES:

In her eternal quest for fairness, balance and catching the bastards with their pants down Molly has been reading coverage from the mainstream press about the protests at the 'Three Amigos Summit' in Montebello Quebec. What Molly has begun to notice is that some of the most extreme weirdness is being reported with a straight face, without the slightest hint on the part of the reporters that they recognize that what they are describing is a little bit on the bent side. Most of what Molly discusses below comes from a recent report by the CanWest News Service outfit who could never be accused of having a "left wing bias. Look to this article for the reportage.

The weirdness of the day begins when the Emperor George Bush II stepped onto the tarmac at the Ottawa International Airport to be greeted not by Stephan Harper but by the Governor General Michel Jean. Stevie was somewhere out in Montebello perhaps making sure that all the toilets were properly scrubbed or maybe just generally puttering and fussing. Stevie has never actually given an impression of being "all there". All that Molly can says, however, is better him than Stockwell.

Or maybe not. The CanWest report says that Stevie and the wifie had a little get together with the Mexican President and his family on the weekend prior to the conference. As they say, "The Mexican president and his family spent the weekend at the prime ministerial summer retreat at Harrington Lake, Quebec, with Harper and his family in what officials described as a typical cottage weekend of swimming, boating and sing-songs around a campfire."

Whoah, hold on. What really happened here ? A typical cottage weekend ? The mind boggles. It first of all boggles at the "sing-song". What do the ruling class sing when they gather around a campfire ? The 'Molly Microphone' was present to discover at least the following traditional verse,

"Someone profits Lord.

Kumbayaa

Someone gets a bribe.

Kumbayaa

Someone sells high.

Kumbayaa

Someone buys cheap.

Kumbayaa.

Oh Lord, Kumbayaa."

Ya gotta teach the kids "good family values" after all.

Rumour has it that while the wifies were busy gabbing up the availability of plastic surgery options in Argentina the hubbies were out behind the traditional camping outhouse, concocting a new cocktail- to be named either the 'Canico' or the 'Mexada'.

Stevie,

"Well first my wetback friend you gotta pour in this 12 pack of Labatt's Blue"

Philippie the Poo,

"Well, my little Georgie poodle, you double gringo for being even further North than the other gringos, you gotta add this bottle of good 'ol cheap Tijuana tequila. Drink this an' you be mucho macho. Also ditch that fishing vest if you wanna people tink you gotta los cajones."

Stevie,

"Mako you too. You bend over so much for Georgie that your regular view of the world is upside down. Let's pour in this bottle of good ol' Canadian Club.

Philippe the Poo,

"Bend over my dear pale imitation of a vampire. A least I fart oil when Georgie asks for my bum. You pass water you hijo de la puta."

And so on...by the time the night ended and the boys had finished barfing all over themselves the Sun was coming up. Crawl back to bed, but you'll still be in no shape to greet the Emperor when his chariot lands at the airport.

So...late to bed and late to rise. Meanwhile out at the airport the emperor lands and shakes paw with Michel, taxing his 7 neurons to remember her name let alone protocol. There are no ability tests for politicians, even those who become Emperor. The whole little piece of diplomacy is marred by the fact that a US Marine fainted on the tarmac while standing guard at "one of the President's waiting helicopters". He needs more than "one" ? In Molly's view one should be sufficient. Both his mind and his conscience can walk. The Emperor, however, tries to keep both separate from his immediate entourage even though he wants them close at hand in case Jesus comes to him again if he falls off the wagon. How many times can you be "born again" ? The turnstile spins at relativistic speed. But Georgie...Molly has told you many times. Take your meds for your flatulence. Every marine you fell is one less piece of cannon fodder.

Zip, zip, zip; it's off to the resort where the visiting dignitaries are puttered around the grounds in motorcades made up of golf carts. Yes...golf carts.

Oh oh, here comes one of Molly's flights of juvenile fantasy. The congo line putters its way across the lawn, Canadian flags flying bravely from the carts. Stevie is leading the procession wearing that 'Imperial Order of the Royal Buffalo hat that he sports in the cartoons. He holds a little horn to toot as he drives along. The assembled dignitaries burst into song:

"Come by car, come by plane

As we plot and scheme again

And the golf carts go rolling along.

(toot,toot)

Way out there hear them shout

Break their heads and punch them out

As the golf carts go rolling along.

(toot,toot)

For it's hi, hi, hee

In the art of summitry

Call out your salary loud and strong.

TWO- FOUR-MIL

(toot,toot)

For wherever you go

You will always know

That the golf carts go rolling along.

Well Jesus H. Christ, Molly cannot think of any empire in history when the procession for the Emperor arranged by one of his underlings would be so crass and undignified. If Queen Victoria visited India was she shuttled around in rickshaws ? If Stalin visited Bulgaria were all the dignitaries transported by ox-cart ? Did the Emperor and his entourage ride on donkeys when visiting Illyria ? Our present ruling class definitely lacks taste.

But speaking of "taste"...the Imperial Party and the low underlings from Illyria were treated to the following lunch,

"The Canadian-themed menu included appetizers of smoked duck and seared scallops, followed by rack of Nunuvat caribou with cranberries, plus pralines, English cream and red berry coulis for desert".

Now Molly might want to quibble about how "Canadian-themed" "English cream" is, but surely I'd be a Philistine is I voiced this opinion. The mind does boggle, however, on the subject of whether "English cream" tastes any different than "Canadian cream", and if the palates of our golf cart riding rulers are sophisticated enough to detect the difference. Molly would suggest that brazed liver of reserve dweller would be more appropriate and representative of what Canada actually does. Or perhaps roast leg of Newfy. But I admit that Molly is not a gourmand. She eats Cheez-Whiz sandwiches to make herself tired enough to sleep at night. I have a vague grasp of "what is a praline", though I can't connect it to 'Canada'. The whole matter of "red berry coulis" stumps me however. I hope that our rulers aren't eating "very red Collies with a lisp". That would be gross. But "pralines" probably are as well.

This stuff goes on and on. For some inexplicable reason the organizers of the Summit decided to provide distraction and entertainment for the rulers' parties via a direct feed to the protests happening outside the fortress. Holy Shit, the ruling class has a technologically enhanced direct line to what is going on down at the local Coliseum. This is actually strange beyond belief. This is entertainment and distraction for the ever serious and dedicated social technicians who manage our lives ? Break up that discussion about standardizing jelly beans across the continent; there's a good fight going on out front. Hockey Night in Canada in the summer. Fight,fight, fight! Well at least this might pass as generally Canadian even if the food doesn't. Get the fuck back to work guys and do your job of plotting evil. Yes...the whole idea is more than slightly weird, and it says how far we have travelled down a road of decadence that the strangeness of it isn't immediately apparent.

The article quotes our Beloved Comrade Leader Stevie on his opinion of the protests. "I've heard it's nothing. A couple of hundred. it's sad". The article examined above gives an estimate of "over 1,000". Organizers of the protest claim a figure of about 1,400. Molly is a cynic about the numbers claimed by both the side she likes and those who are on "the other side" such as CanWest is. Molly's "body count rule" applies to almost all conflicts that don't include total lies on one side (such as traditional Communist propaganda used to and American claims of "insurgents killed" do today in Iraq and Afghanistan where every person killed in a wedding party is one more Al Queda or Taliban killed). Take the various claims. Divide or multiply them by the number of claimants. Average the final results. Let's take the above as "three claimants", Stevie, the media who contradict him without even acknowledging that they do same and the "lefty claim". 200 + 1000 + 1400 divided by 3 equals 867. That's about the number of people present outside Montebello if you include the "Stevie count". If you assume that the Stevie count has no validity whatsoever- this may be true- then the count would be about 1,200 people.

In actual fact Stevie obviously made the number up on the spot with no idea about its truth. Now Molly has great sympathy for the profession of "economics" in which Stevie apparently has a degree. They are often very "mathematically challenged", and it isn't fair to ask them to count beyond the number of fingers and toes that they have. Molly also understand that the Chinese often use the expression "one hundred" to signify metaphorically a large but indeterminate number. But Stevie is not Chinese, and he has no excuse. Perhaps he takes "his desires for reality" as certain of the more crazy "anarchists" urge us to do.

Molly could go on and on about this stuff. Perhaps some would say that she has gone way beyond the limit here. The bottom line, however, is that you should actually examine such news and try and cast it in the light of everyday reality. When put in this spotlight it becomes, at best, the subject of comedy. At worst it merely shows a detachment from reality as profound as that of those who think that we both should and could "abolish civilization". The throbbing centre of strangeness and detachment from reality lies at the centre of our ruling class, not in bizarre cults that arise out of oppositional movements to this state of affairs.