The Doldrums of Blogging Drifts Politics to the Side

I think I'm in the doldrums of blogging. You know that time when the boat gently drifts along because there are no winds, no passionate breezes to push one along and get one writing.

It's not like there isn't anything to write about. There's always the TTC, although I have to say that it's getting cleaner and a bit better ... well, except for the streetcar driver the other day who drove like we were on a lazy Sunday excursion with no destination and no ticking deadline. It meant that by the time he coasted along an empty road to my stop and let me off, I had to hustle to get to my appointment on time. But anyway, no passion here about the TTC.

And there's always Prime Minister Stephen Harper, whose latest thing is about ignoring the Latin leaders, like he ignores the Parliamentary press corps, and talking to and about them like Father Knows Best because, like, the War on Drugs is so successful, how could the leaders of the countries awash in drug wars, drug murders, drug-created anarchy not see that? But no, I don't feel passionate enough to write about that just now.

And there's always Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty, who actually isn't a bad Premier, but his out-of-hand rejection of Safe Needle Sites and huffing and puffing over NDP Leader Andrea Horwath's budget proposals is tedious and unhelpful to us Ontarians. Don't these provincial politicians know we don't want another election? I mean, we elected the Legislature we wanted, and they're just going to have to learn to co-operate. It's obvious PC Leader Tim Hudak is so incompetent in that regard, he bows out before play has even begun, but that doesn't mean McGuinty has to be a fool too. But, nope, I don't feel riled up enough about that or the Safe Needles Sites to blog on them. Besides I already did a bit on the former.

And there's always the raccoons, who menace our city with their droppings and all-out screeching wars, who feast on our hardly ever picked up garbage and so multiply worse than rats. But as people like to say, it's their land before ours, which conveniently ignores the First Nations who lived and traded (and warred) here, in this very spot, before the English and French ever arrived. And conveniently ignores the observation that raccoons are prospering like no tomorrow because they live in a city, because we've created this rich environment for them, so rich that they're breaking their own territorial claims. Hence the wars and skittering along in the daytime. If raccoons are using us to get fat, the least they can do is behave themselves. Yes, I know, you're laughing hysterically at that last bit.

This is what comes of Spring arriving early -- it puts clouds and pretty flowers in one's head, and blogging goes to the wayside as one drifts along in the doldrums.