Kootenay Crust

By Ian Cobb

Crappy, inclement weather makes me grouchy.

It’s been crappy and inclement the past few days, following a glorious stretch of summer-like weather, and there are lots of grouchy people fuming about out there.

There are the folks who are traveling. Encouraged by the summery weather that preceded the May long weekend, many an adventurous soul booked some time off work to let highway miles help scrape away winter’s dry, white crust. Now they are white-knuckling over high country passes and swearing at the slushy slobber of the valley roads. And pity those who thought they could hop aboard their motorcycles.

There are folks who work outdoors who thought they’d seen the last of the winter of 2012/13. The long gitch comes off, lighter boots and garments are donned and seasonal tasks become quagmires of shivering agony.

And there are the folks who LOVE winter. The sled-heads, pow shreds and mixtures of both are looking toward their favourite high country drainages like faithful dogs hearing their master’s keys jingling in the front door lock. “Why Old Man Winter? You rat bastard!” They moan and howl, their toys secured away until the autumn.

That howl has been reverberating o’er our land these past few days. It is anguish only Canadians understand; it is our own particular shit to deal with and get over and it’s difficult to do when Old Man Winter has clearly been getting into too many season-ending tequila binges and forgetting he’s supposed to be on the bus to the Southern Hemisphere to wreak his havoc down there.

When we are starting to find the courage to place indoor plants outside, WHAM, Old Man Winter lays one all over them, like a massive flock of diarrhea-suffering Canada Geese after a stop in a Monsanto corn field.

It isn’t fair, but it is life in the East Kootenay and in British Columbia and in Canada.

Despite knowing better not to trust Old Man Winter, we Canadians believe him time and time again. We hear his promise of spring to come and we wince and grouse and lash out when he breaks his promises time and time again, but then we forgive him with that time-favoured ‘ah shucks’ Canadian shrug and say, “that’s life in Canada” and piss and moan some more and likely wave fists at drivers in front of us for no real reason.

So think of this before waving a fist at a stranger; for it is not the stranger’s doing.

In fact, there are striking similarities to Old Man Winter’s behavior and the operational standards set forth by Ottawa and usually followed by provincial capitals.

If there is a way to deceive and delay and snarf down more taxpayer money pie, our MPs and senators and, worse, senior bureaucrats make it happen. Old Man Winter sees a chance to linger and annoy and he succeeds admirably. Coincidence?

It is clear to me now that Old Man Winter is Stephen Harper. It was Paul Martin before him and Jean Chrétien before him and so on down the line to (Sir) John A. Macdonald, who forged a pact with Mother Nature to keep Americans from invading Western Canada. “Henceforth and always, Canada’s Prime Minister shall be Old Man Winter in the guise of stuffy old white guys (no offence to Kim Campbell who did last long enough to enjoy her stint spreading winter all over the land) and they shall ignore the pleas of their people and they shall continuously lie to them and be deceitful and in general, just be complete a-holes,” Mother Nature decreed.

John A then climbed aboard a platform on a locomotive cattle scoop and got phantasmagoriacally pissed while rolling through the Rockies.

Only a cretinous whore like a Canadian Prime Minister could handle the job of being Old Man Winter, with an outside chance that it might be Preston Manning, bitter still over how a snide lump of Calgary dreck such as Stephen Harper could become PM. Manning sacrificed and Harper triumphed on his blood, sweat and tears – the lucky stiff! Where there is motive… there is possibility.

But I do believe installed power in Ottawa gets to slip into Old Man Winter’s arid skin and therefore it has to be Harper. Adding to that rather sound theory is the fact Harper has such an obvious loathing for Mother Nature. He’d rather be keeping up on what Nigel Wright was up to than have to torment the average Canadian with random pokes in the eye, after all.

So the next time you’re put out by winter’s pesky (hey, the Ottawa Senators are calling themselves ‘pesky’ – ack, more proof!) refusal to bugger off and die a spell, write a strongly-worded letter to the Prime Minister’s Office demanding to see video of Mike Duffy being roasted like a Papuan Potbelly or you’ll refuse to fall victim to relentless government abuse and extortion any further and won’t hand over any more tax money until you see proof that Ottawa is not a corrupt dung pit stuffed full of minor Mafioso wannabes.

And don’t yell at the car in front of you because the weather and a slimy governmental system is sapping your energy reserves. It makes you look stupid – Rob Ford stupid.

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