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Showing posts with label pea-soup. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pea-soup. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


Though I am loath to endorse any hyperlink that leads back to the dreadfully awful Montreal Gazette, the following story is both important and uplifting to anyone who believes that all Quebecers should have the same full, and equal, rights under the law. This should encourage anyone who believes in freedom of expression, of multiculturalism, and most of all, of courage in the face of overwhelming (albeit utterly discredited) opposition and even violence.

I reprint it here, without permission, solely to ensure that in the likely event the Gazette caves to pressure from a "special" interest group comprised of a goon squad of separatist racists.

One woman against the anti-Royal mobBy David Johnston, The Gazette

Photograph by: John Mahoney, The Gazette

She was a single lone woman up against a noisy nationalist mob tonight outside of the Black Watch armory on Bleury St., in the hour before Prince Charles arrived with Camilla, the Duchess of Cornwall.

As the bright lights of national television created an something of a chilling aura around the 150 slogan-chanting Quebec nationalists, a small determined woman named Suzanne Reny walked up to the front lines of the protest and told them they were all a disgrace.

Speaking in fluent French and English, and carrying a well-known Scottish flag, the Rampant Lion, this petite daughter of a retired Canadian air-force pilot, and husband of a man of Scottish orgin, tore a strip off the protestors in front of a dozen cameras.

She called them ignorant and stupid, and she called them other things that can’t be printed – and the protestors were taken aback at first, until one man pushed her, prompting other protestors to intervene on behalf of her.

“If they are allowed to have their way in public, then I am allowed to have my say in public, too,” said Reny, the daughter of a father from the Beauce region and a mother from Trois-Rivières.

“If they are going to come here as a gang and say ‘We’re the Jeunes Patriotes’ and all that stuff and ‘we represent Quebec,’ well, I’m here to say they don’t represent Quebec,” said Reny.

Royal-family lovers who had come to stand outside the armory in the hope of greeting the royal couple looked on in amazement as Reny took on all comers and stood her ground in the glare of TV lights against the intimidating mob.

“Am I afraid? No way!” said Reny, who grew up in Lachine, LaSalle and Dollard des Ormeaux.

One of the protestors, a red-haired francophone woman named Danielle Fortin who said she was “a quarter” Irish and who was carrying an Irish flag, said to Reny, “Whose the real minority here? Don’t you know your history?”

Reny shot back, “Where did you learn your history? At the University of the St. Jean Baptiste Society?”

The louder Reny shouted the protestors down, the more the protestors in the background craned their necks to get a look at this woman who had come to stand them down. She was a one-woman counter-demonstration, and the royal couple’s and Black Watch’s strongest defender.



Saturday, February 21, 2009

AND my favourite pair of sunglasses got fucked up, too.

I was on my way to the cafe for my usual Saturday afternoon therapy of lattes and writing. I took the long way in, and while on the #55 bus after a nice, long walk I get assaulted by, well for lack of a better means of identifying him, a French-speaking separatist of middle years starts getting pissy with me about the Canadian flag on my backpack. We had words, which mainly consisted of me telling him to mind his own fucking business and him bitching and acting offended as he insulted me.

Getting off at my stop--or should I say attempting to--he blocked the door and started shoving me, grabbing me and trying to land a punch. Then this OTHER fat fuck starts it too. Everyone is yelling--AT ME--telling ME to stop it, when all I'm trying to do is fucking DEFEND MYSELF.

Finally, I get off the bus, half thrown off by this motherfucker.

My coat's stitching is pulled--thank God I have needle and thread in my backpack. But meanwhile, I'm angry as fuck, my face is scratched (Pussy used his nails) and I just can't stop fucking shaking.

It is clear that we are no longer going to be allowed to live in peace in this Province.

Let history show, however, that we did not start this.