The summer of 2018 was a tumultuous time for Ontario during which – in a landmark election – this province elected its first glazed ham as Premier. Doug Ford, the discount Rob Ford, immediately got to work after being elected, rolling back policies implemented by Kathleen Wynne’s government seemingly ages ago.
Following through on his alleged campaign promises, Ford repealed the already top-notch sex-ed curriculum, replacing it with a world-class approach for teaching children about the most natural part of ourselves: the approach of doing nothing. In a bid to bring the province back to when the straight, white, cisgender male held all the power – instead of just most of it – Ford implemented a “Gays are icky, and your body is filthy” bill. It aimed to erase most of a broad spectrum of sexual identities, with which we all share commonalities and differences.
When asked to comment, the Premier simply stated that “Sex is gross, I don’t want to hear about winkies and berginas.” The Premier of Ontario then proceeded to cover his eyes with this hands and screech like a wounded cat until I was forced to leave.
Students, workers, LGBTQIA2S+ people, educators, ethnic and religious minorities, Indigenous peoples, etc. all have one thing in common: they traditionally don’t inherit millions of dollars from Daddy. These traditionally shat-upon demographics all have to work to pay for their own education. They also have to work to pay for other tedious things like food, shelter, and the right to live in a state which fluctuates on whether or not it gives two shits about their well-being or legal rights. But the answer to a hotly-debated question, which has drawn the ire of politicians in our liberal democracy for nearly two centuries, is still undecided in 2019: Can these demographics of our voter base be considered “people”?
This controversial question returned to general political discourse after Doug Ford, physical manifestation of the “meat sweats,” introduced his brand new “Don’t be poor” legislation last week. This legislation was designed to really stick it to those Liberal party elites and their agenda, which was largely on loan from the New Democratic Party. Written in a worn out cyan crayon – the Premier’s favourite colour – the legislation marks an end to several “benefits” given to students who use OSAP to pay for the ever-increasing post-secondary tuition. Rolling back the admittedly helpful “grace period,” which gives students six months before they have to pay back their student loans, the Ontario Conservatives justified this affront to poor students by stating, “If the Province is in debt, so should you be.”
While investigating this piece of legislation, I was led to an extravagant pool-party hosted in an underground vault of the Premier’s home. In an obscene display of wealth akin to the Ancien Regime in pre-revolutionary France and what can only be described as “Scrooge McDuck-ian,” the Premier was found doing elaborate cannonballs into a pile of gold doubloons to the applause of wealthy industrialists. Alt-right leaders and politicians feasted on lobsters, quiches made from endangered Condor eggs, and what was described as “Rhino-horn soup.”
“I simply looked into what was wrong with OSAP,” stated Ford, glistening with sweat and dislodging gold coins from his ears. “And as it turns out, the organization was just giving money away! Can you imagine a world where people don’t have to work for their money?” The Premier then unceremoniously waltzed over to the wall and kissed a golden plaque inscribed with Daddy and Rob’s widow’s money.
“Now, I’m a man of the people, for the people, and if my two-month tenure of skipping class to pick on Marty McFly has taught me anything, it’s that students have it really good,” the Premier said while I stared, aghast. “So then I kept looking into it and realized something: Why should the poor have a right to go to a non-poor place? So, then I took away that free tuition thingy that that mean lady said was okay.”
When asked for further explanation, Doug Ford clapped his hands twice and stared at this reporter with a blank yet menacing look. The guests of the pool party, now somehow clad in crimson robes with dark hoods over their heads, quickly surrounded me.
“You see,” said Ford, adorning a monocle and scribbling further harmful legislation onto the back of a Dukes of Hazzard DVD. “It’s for the people.”
In an eerie, sinister act of collaboration, the hooded figures echoed him, saying, “The people.”
I awoke three days later in a wooded area of the Rouge Valley, with a thick stack of Canadian Tire money worth $6.35 attached to a note that had “bus fare” written on it in cyan crayon. I remain shaken by my experience with Doug Ford, Premier of Ontario and living piece of leftover Arby’s roast beef.