Is Stephen Harper driving the middle class to ruination?

@moremoreenough I'm going to stop this back and forth if u can't use respectable applicable language, no one is going to the toilet
— Cindy3 (@Cindy3Gage) February 10, 2014

Fair enough, Cindy, but I'm going to step back and write this blog now.

I understand your frustration. I share your sense of nostalgia for a kinder era in which a man could start out in the mail room or a shop floor, and support a family of five while working his way up to a corner office to collect a six-figure salary in exchange for little more than showing-up to rubber stamp a couple of important documents and attend a couple of meetings a week. Those days are long gone in the face of global competition. Miniaturization and micro chips have revolutionized the way we catalogue information and communicate. Logistics and international trade have turned certain products - things we might have once considered to be luxuries - into easily affordable and subsequently "disposable" goods. Clever minds develop computer scripts that make entire departments obsolete. The toothpaste has been squeezing out of the tube since 1996, and yet, some people insist on blaming Stephen Harper for worldwide economic trending:

@moremoreenough @Can_ada ruining our middle class, strengthening his elitist corporate buddies, ruining our environment, outsourcing jobs
— Cindy3 (@Cindy3Gage) February 10, 2014

It's time you wiped away the cobwebs, Luddite. Would you prefer if our nation's leader were to spurn corporate interests? The information revolution is upon us, and I'm sure that driving the middle class to ruination is the furthest thing from Mr. Harper's mind. If I'm not mistaken, doesn't Stephen Harper himself comes from a somewhat middle-class background? Some people seem to think that our Prime Minister is the gatekeeper of some unseen, otherworldly void - that he can simply wave his hand and conjure money to elevate every disenfranchised victim of progress from out of their monotonous rut.

@moremoreenough @BeautifulRed7 I was thinking more of family or friends vouching for mentally ill/ homeless people who want to vote.
— Jim Watson (@CaptainSuburb) February 10, 2014

A shiny new bathroom for every transsexual, and a woman in every coal mine. A vote for every homeless, mentally unstable ex-con rapist, and anyone clad in a burka - with or without picture ID! A vote for anyone else who's contributed nothing, but has been in the country for at least five minutes leading-up to the polls! Isn't a piece of mail and a library card too much to ask for?

 These decidedly anti-Harper caterwaulers fail to realize that any economic interference can ultimately be reduced to one thing only: robbing Peter to pay Paul. They neglect to understand how imposing obstructionist regulations on business will eventually cause entrepreneurs and capital investors to question why they should bother taking on all the risk and liability in the first place - investing so much of their own time and energy just to see some union boss handing it over to the "cart-before-the-horse" party, otherwise known as the NDP.

Anyway, I awoke this morning thinking about how sometimes perennially poor, self-centered people in desperate situations will often drag one another down even further into the dregs. I came up with the following:

The last week of the month rolls around, and you've been on shaky ground with your benevolent landlady for some time now already, but she has most graciously agreed to extended a payment deadline in light of your new job. She reminds you that this shall be her last act of compassion before she has no choice but serve you with an eviction notice. 

That night, as you prepare your lunch for work the following day, before going to bed, you hear a knock at the door. It's your old drinking buddy and he's holding a suitcase. 

"Bro! So good to see you! Bad news man, my roommates kicked me out and I've got nowhere to stay tonight. Any chance I can crash here?" 

Of course, you invite him to make himself at home, and tell him to feel free to help himself to the ample leftovers in the fridge. After relating your own precarious circumstance, you then excuse yourself to get a good night's rest for your early morning shift. Not only are you on your last legs with your landlady, but your supervisor has emphatically reminded you that your skating on thin ice due to your lack of punctuality. 

The next morning you're running a bit late, but you'll easily make the cross-town bus if you hurry. Still groggy, you clumsily knock your change jar onto the floor as you attempt to fish out the last three bucks to your name for bus fare. Empty. The sound of the shattering glass as it hits the floor stirs your old pal from his slumber. It's then that you notice an empty pizza box on the floor in front of the sofa, and spy a half-eaten slice of deluxe topping thin crust sitting atop the end table - just sitting there oozing grease on the freshly wiped surface, without so much as one of the several napkins included with the order under it. It looks like those napkins were used to soak-up the cola that was very recently spilled on your only heirloom, the Afghan rug under the coffee table!

"Oh yeah... sorry Bro. I needed a tip for the pizza guy," your old pal croaks to you through lips stained with tomato sauce. 

"Hope you don't mind bro. Hey, if you let me stay another few days, I can pay you back when I get my retroactive housing subsidy payment! I'm pretty sure it'll be in this week... you know those greedy bastards at the low-income housing office really know how to make a guy sweat! You going to work or something?"