Nooooo, Canada!

Don't you DARE turn these bright rainbows of limitless possibility into another dreary downpour of boring grey raindrops on Bay Street on October 15th! Keep your cheerless sniffs and sneers, your cringe-inducing and silencing accusations to yourselves. Wipe those dour smirks of smugness off your faces. Save the sanctimonious nitpicking for later. Take your pet issue and shove it. Talk to someone other than your circle of like-minded cronies and allies. Let's carpe fucking diem on this one, eh? The way this world is going, many of us may not get another chance.

I was in my mother's kitchen when I heard the news on the radio: Jack Layton has lost his battle with cancer.

I was juicing watermelon and pineapple for my mother. She is a survivor of laryngeal cancer who can eat no solid foods. I was shocked, but I wasn't surprised: I'd seen Layton's July press conference, his face already a death mask. I stopped what I was doing, steadied myself against the kitchen counter and just felt terribly, terribly sad.

At his opening campaign event at the end of March, Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff told voters that they had just two options in this election. They could walk through the blue door or they could walk through the red door. This phrasing represented new imagery, to be sure, but it is essentially the same message that the Liberal Party has been serving up to Canadians for years. To be blunt, after losing their grip on power and patronage, it's all they have left.