STILL The Day Before the Day Before the Day After

Alternate title: It's Almost Like Today Doesn't Want it To Be Tomorrow, Either.

Picking up from where we left off, I was saying "Canada is my nation; it is not my navel," in response to which you were chuckling, nay guffawing, almost choking on your Ovaltine. Some even came out your nose, which was cute. And nutritious. Then there was a stark, humourless silence across cyberspace for what seemed like nanoseconds. Until, this...

Thought 2: I'd rather not vote Liberal

Okay. So as we learned last time, no Conservatives (on account of the Clark-Spohr factor and the abs). But, then, who?

As a young child, I was, like most young children, a New Democrat. I was an often very vocal proponent of the redistribution of wealth (Cheerios, candy, toys) from those who had it (my sister, that man at the corner store, that ungrateful Kirk kid from down the street) to those who didn't (invariably, me). I supported quality child care, especially when the caring involved the distribution of the aforementioned wealth to the child (again, me) . I supported environmental stewardship (bugs in jars) and funding for the arts (so long as the arts were cartoons).

As a teen, I was a Young Liberal. I have nothing witty to say about that, I just was. Then, circa 1990 (circa being Latin for, Christ I'm old), I became a YL for PM -- the PM, of course, standing for Paul Martin. (Or, in my case, possibly "Pimple Medication". Man, was I a greasy kid.) Sadly, my button-wearing, meeting-stacking, underage-drinking efforts notwithstanding, Pauly's first leadership campaign fell way short.

Dejected, I boxed up my PM t-shirt, PM bandana and PM sunglasses ...and PM shoelaces, shoe horn, watch, wallet, bottle opener, toilet brush and novelty condoms. (Somehow I missed out on the replica Liberian-flagged steamships.) I let my party membership lapse in '91, then finally succeeded in getting my name removed from their mailing list in -- well, I'll let you know after I check Monday's mail.

From there, my partisan affiliation slowly faded -- thankfully, as did my zittage. I'm a bit embarassed to say that, off the top of my head, I can't recall with certainty who I voted for in '93, '97 and '00. I happen to be much clearer on who I slept with over the same time span. Booty tends to be more memorable than ballots. Also, the list is shorter. I know I voted Liberal at least once. And NDP. And then there was this girl who liked to do it... Wait, I'm getting confused.

Anway, 2004 I do remember. Ballot: Liberal. Booty: my wife. Canadian Idol: Kalan Porter. (The lad reminds me of myself at his age. But with a better voice. Better hair, too. And fewer zits. Actually, why did I vote for that little bastard?)

Anyway, the Libs got my vote last time around for a number of reasons. First, there was my leftover nostalgic admiration for the Paul Martin of a decade and a half ago: forward-looking, articulate, less likely to consume large doses of Geritol. Second, there was a chance that the Conservatives and their decidedly non-Clarkspohresque leader Stephen Harper could actually win - a scenario that something a guy like me who leans left (and, not that it's relevant, dresses right) cannot tolerate.

Third, I was in Ujjal Dosanjh's riding. All else being equal, I'll usually vote for the brown guy. Call it my way of sticking it to Whitey. And "the Man". (True, I myself am a whitey, but only in the small-w sense. I'm also a man, but not the Man. And until I am him, "it" should be stuck to him at every opportunity, assuming "it" is not a delicious caramel apple, in which case, I am your Man.)

But that was then. This time is a problem.

I don't know if I can vote Liberal. It's not that I don't think they've done a good job. On the whole, they have. The economy is humming. Budgetary surpluses abound. George Bush has his chaps in a knot. All good in my books. And it's not that I think Martin or his candidates are corrupt. They may know some guys who know some guys who are corrupt, but there's a difference. Hey, I watch movies: The corrupt guys say "faggedabowdit" and then go medieval on your ass. Martin and his team says "Idunnoabowdit" and, at worst, would go circa 1964 on your ass.

But in this campaign, Pauly and the Libs (not to be confused with the folk group of the same name) have looked, well, pathetic. I can overlook the strategic gaffes like letting Harper dictate the flow of the campaign, or not putting tighter pants on Stephen Owen. But crap like the "guns in our cities" ad and playing cheap politics with the Charter, well, that's (a) sad and (b) an insult to my intellajins intelligence.

There's quite enough "sad" in this life as it is. Case in point: the heartbreaking lack of quality chocolate bars in this country in general and in my home in particular. And folks who want to insult my intelligence are a dime a dozen. I have the garage full of As Seen on TV products to prove it.

So there's all that. Wherever that leaves me. This will take some more thought. Maybe some chocolate.

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