#62 Shivers from RCMP & Trump
October 11th, 2016
I kind of shivered watching the video re-runs of Bob Paulson’s apology to women in the RCMP. It was not that pleasurable kind of shiver—rather more like what happens just before your stomach rebels and you heave.
Every one of the women who lodged complaints about what is, after all, criminal behaviour, must have named the piece of trash who got far, far out of line… so why have no criminal charges been filed?
Nobody has been censured, nobody has been demoted, and nobody has been given the highly-shined, regulation-issue boot to the behind.
And now the tax payer gets dinged for the multi-million “settlement.”
There were croco-gator tears as the head honcho admitted that supervisors had failed so many women who had complained. But this kind of shyte can only happen when the supervisors have blind eyes and deaf ears. I don’t want RCMP supervisors who are so obviously medically challenged. And I sure don’t see why the taxpayer has to pick up the tab.
Do something more than shed a few tears in front of the TV cameras.
Let the bozos who indulged their adolescent inclinations pay. Garnish their wages.
No sooner did I get my stomach calmed after Paulson’s best performance by an actor in a leading role than we were treated to the tape of Herr Drumph and the cousin of Shrub and Jeb Bush having their locker-room joking conversation.
If I caught one of my sons or grandsons talking like that it would be Open the door, Milly, it’s time to clean house! Out with the liquid detergent and wash their foul mouth.
And so few of us are really shocked. I know I wasn’t surprised. I was disgusted, I was saddened, but not surprised. This society is rife with anti-female shyte. I’m not going to go into a feminist rant about it; you all know how wide-spread it is, and probably every woman has examples from her personal history.
So what happens? They aren’t born boorish and rude. They’re warm and cuddly, they snuggle and smile, they are almost all of them jolly and they try to be helpful. So when does the change happen?
Are those old stories about changelings true? They head off to bed one night, and they’re treasures; and what comes to the breakfast table the following morning is a boorish jerk?
My take on the RCMP apology is that the legal team told them they didn’t have a ghost of a chance of winning the pending court case. So, obviously, it’s cover-your-butt time… but it isn’t enough. That kind of behaviour can only happen and continue when the higher-ups tolerate it. Or even participate in it. And it isn’t a ha-ha, can’t you take a joke? kind of thing. It’s criminal behaviour. There has to be consequences for the ones doing it and also for those who did not do their jobs properly as supervisors. They got paid to do a job, they didn’t do it, so they can give back the money they pocketed while wasting our time and pretending to be doing their duty.
And they can be fired.
But on the plus side…
It’s a gorgeous morning here on the west coast of the Island… Friends Gareth and Melinda came up from Victoria for a wonderful, musical visit. He’s part of a group called Black Angus that can be heard at the Irish Times pub in the capital. We went for walks and laughed a lot. Supper one night wound up slightly overcooked because the humpback whale in the bay was showing off again.
One whale has me convinced she is as thrilled by us as we are by her. She seems to get great fun out of swimming back and forth in front of a throng. She’s a show-off, lifting out of the chuck, blowing, rolling and, of course, always the iconic photo-op of the tail outlined against the sky.
We gave thanks. The roast beef was overly well done and a tad dry, but the gravy was excellent. And the music! Melinda found this mystery banjo for Gareth with six strings and a neck like a guitar, but it’s definitely a banjo. Sounds very Middle Eastern, or maybe African.
What it does for gutbucket blues is to make you shiver—in a good way.
Anne Cameron grows pussywillows on the western edge of Vancouver Island. She received the George Woodcock Lifetime Achievement Award for an outstanding literary career in British Columbia in 2010. Her 23 books include Daughters of Copper Woman, the bestselling work of fiction ever written about B.C. and published from within B.C. She has banished herself to Tahsis, a small town not far from Friendly Cove where the shenanigans called British Columbia all began.