“I had definitely never heard of anyone peeing in a cup and leaving it in their own office on a bookshelf to evaporate and be absorbed back into their body through the pores on their face.” Tina Fey, "Bossypants."
There are few us, I trust, who wouldn't admit that they've had one of those desperate 'gotta go' moments. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Conservative candidate, Jerry Bance, recently caught on camera urinating into a glass, while in the home of a client, in the first instance, was simply responding to the painful call of nature.
From my own guilty experiences, in reviewing the video, it wasn't so much the pissing in the cup that was bothersome, but the quick sink rinse of the container, leaving it properly un-cleansed for others. Off the scale was the “Yuck” factor.
Everybody has pissed her or his pants. My own history would reveal a young paperboy out on his route, too shy to ask a customer if he could use the bathroom, struggling onward, trying to hold in the golden shower, until the dam finally burst and there was a hot flow emanating down the ole pant leg, soon to be frozen by the cold winter air. Easy to suffer given the incredible relief provided. The worse outcome was a certain recognizable odor at the time of expulsion but more so chaffed legs, notwithstanding the obvious embarrassment.
One, such as a fourteen-year-old newspaper carrier, with a one-time transgression is forgivable. Piss happens. It would likely not have effect on any future job prospect, should it have been videoed and aired on CBC or social media outlets.
Okay, so then there was the time when I , at a much more 'mature' age of 28, deciding that the washroom was too long a trip from my bedroom. I opted to piss against a hallway wall. I was, at the time, semi-conscious of my action. I might have, probably even did, revel in my rebellious act.
This particular action did not escape scrutiny by my roommates at the time. They remained silent, for years, until they finally informed me one night that they had witnessed my dangling participle digression. I had heard no tittering, groans or WTFs, as I piss-painted the wall, then headed back for bed. Again, fortunate for me, there was no video evidence, of the event. Cell phones with cameras were not yet universal.
How to explain that one?
In a subsequent confessional conversation, with one of my brothers, he was extremely sympathetic to my plight, informing me that he had a penchant for pissing against the bedroom drapes. Saved, my 'disorder' obviously had a deep-seated genetic basis. It was not my fault! I was innocent, a product of biological mutation at the microscopic level. Maybe my ancestors had been pissing against Hadrian walls and curtains for centuries!
What was Polonius doing all that time behind that curtain before Hamlet slay him? Surely, he must have had the urge to urinate. Was the Wizard of Oz shaking his snake behind the curtain? Alas, if you're going to piss around, clean-up after yourself and hope no one has filmed and leaked the information to the media.
Bance, the politico, will not advance as federal candidate in the upcoming election, but no party is immune from modern day surveillance systems, the retrieval of past transgressions, either in actions or in speech, for the world to witness in the safety of their own homes, while pissing against the drapes.
The most recent 'victims' have been the NDP director of communication. A few years ago, he dissed the Catholic Church and told the Pope to go forth and multiply like an invertebrate; the Marijuana Lady in White Rock, the Liberal; the Conservative fellow dissing the mentally ill. Today, another Dipper tainted by a 6-year-old 'gangsta' photo, of her husband.
Enough, I say!
Some years ago, a couple of friends and I sat at Irene's Pub, in Ottawa, and revealed what, if anything, in our past might sink us, if ever we tried for higher office of any kind. Not one of us would survive. Not one of us means everybody in the world.
This is not to say that we might overlook serious social transgressions of our past. Nor are we absolved from punishment or sanction. Yet, in today's show-and-tell 1984-ish world who will cast the first kidney stone. Who will piss on or within someone else's tent, when they've probably soiled their own Yurt?
We all live in glasshouses. We are all human. We all say or do things in the moment that we regret. Unless you're a bird, my advice is to keep your tweeter shut.
In the current climate changed world, all parties are guilty of returning to McCarthy-like tactics. It is like watching the movie, 'The Day of the Triffids.' Everyone is turning into a video vigilante, a Benedict Arnold Tweeter Turncoat.
Let's get back to childhood finger-painting, not adolescent finger-pointing.
Perhaps, the lesson, before one takes any rash action in hand or dribbles out any form of punishment, thereby flushing someone down the electoral toilet, is that it may be prudent to get a better grip on things, to use sober second thought. This brings us to one of the issues in the federal election, the Senate, better known as a Constitutional Can'O'Worms.
I'm sure I can assume no one wants to maintain the status quo, but let's not be too quick to throw the pampered babies out with the odorous bladder water.
Harper is, somewhat, on the side of the 'Abolitionists.' This is so if one understands his morphing position on the matter. He goes from endorsing an elected Senate, while in the opposition benches, to, as PM, immediately appointing a losing Tory Candidate to the Senate and then subsequently directly appointing some 40-odd hand-picked people, to fill vacancies in the Upper Chamber, including the Duffer from PEI or Ottawa, depending on how one reads the geographic entrails.
The Dips have long promoted the end to the stench of patronage appointments into the old boys and girls rest home. Mulcair continues that policy objective under the NDP banner. Adios Senate, I think.
The Dips and the Conservatives are on the same playing field. Imagine the concern in some staunch Blue Suit quarters of rubbing shoulders with the socialist hordes! The enemies
Here's another matter they have in common regarding the Red Chamber. Maybe the Senate is the Red Chamber, not so much by the plush carpeting, but by the fact, the Fibbers in the Red Ties are most guilty of filling those comfortable seats on the Hill with party hacks or as a retirement present more valuable than the traditional gold watch. It’s “Cash for Life.”
Harpoon and Tommy say they will not appoint another Senator, if elected as PM, to let the Senate die a slow death, as the current old fogies hit their final resting place. Some legal experts strongly suggest that is likely not constitutional, so look for another drawn-out battle with my loveable, best new friend, the Supreme Court.
Well, add to that the Constitution requires consent by the Provinces, and ya got a whole other kettle of smelly fish in the tainted coffee cup.
Although the Crown Prince has been a tennis ball going from one place to another on his policies, he took probably the most decisive action of any the leaders. He threw Liberal Senators out of the Caucus. The current crop and those that follow from the Liberal ranks, technically at least, are not official members of the government. Okay, so this is not quite storming the Bastille but a start, however politically motivated. A good politician knows how to address an issue, at the time it is relevant, unlike Harpoon this past week re the refugee crisis
Score one vote then for JT, for now. Let's remain vigilant after the election if he wins the 24 Sussex Drive door prize, keys to the swankiest toilet in the land. Should that happen, strictly metaphorically speaking, he won't piss on our drapes.
My position on the Senate matter is to reform it; severely reform it, but there are options. Dare I suggest shrinkage, but not a slow kill-off with complete termination? How many Senators does it take to rinse a cup? How about a term, same as Parliament, with five years as tops.
Appointment to the Senate could involve a more representative nomination process, with vetting by a parliamentary committee hearing and final approval by the House. This would eliminate just the power of the PM wagging his finger at a half-breathing corpse.
Who's Your Daddy? Let's clear up the residency issue. A summer home in PEI is not good enough.
Better representation might mean that a minimum of a quarter or more of the nominees would be people from all lifestyles, without Party affiliation. The Greek democracy of old revisited.
For those with Party affiliation, one party at a time, so there is balance. No one party can ever have a majority of Senators.
Better representation would honour the native tradition of 'elders,' which means more than just having hung out at the Party parties for 400 years, awaiting the plums from Caesar. Margaret Atwood is one example of Senatorial appointment using this method, as are Hugh Segal and Stephen Lewis.
'Elder' does not have to mean 'Oldster'. Let's get some young blood. The young can fall asleep as well as oldster.
Reduce the benefits and salaries. Like Jack said about Iggy, “Ya gotta show up for work if ya want a promotion” or, I might add, keep your job.
Concerning the above, to reduce the costs, appoint dead people. I'm serious! Put their picture on a chair; make available audio or video excerpts and so forth from speeches and such that they made in their lives that are relevant to any legislation review. Sober, very sober, is another thought. Replay those weekly Peter Gzowski 'Morningside' interviews with Stephen Lewis, Eric Kierans and Dalton Camp!
These are a few suggestions to consider.
The above is not to forget other major issues like the Syrian refugee crisis, Bill C-51, pipelines and so forth as well as ideas nobody is talking about, yet.
Once all the players have their fully costed platforms public, we'll get into financial stuff like balanced budgets or deficits, taxes and the role of government. Still, to channel Donald Trump for a moment, what politicians don't know about the economy would make your head spin.
Perhaps I'm pissing in the wind, a dangerous activity depending on which way that wind is blowing.
Okay, I'm off to wash my hands.
Bob Stark is a musician, poet, philosopher and couch potato. He spends his days, as did Jean-Paul Sarte and Albert Camus, pouring lattes and other adult beverages into a recycled mug, bearing a long and winding crack. He discusses, with much insight and passion, the existentialist and phenomenological ontology of the Vancouver 'Canucks,' a hockey team, "Archie" comic books and high school reunions. In other words, Bob Stark is a retired public servant living the good life on the wrong coast of Canada.
Click above to tell a friend about this article.