A few weeks ago, north of the 55th parallel, it rained. This may seem to be an ordinary event in the south during the month of March. But in the north, rain in the month of storms is rare. In fact, the rain followed by a snowstorm of epic proportions was greeted with affection from the blizzard-loving people of Whapmagoostui. Comments such as, “Hey this is the first storm,” or “Wasn’t it kind of a dry winter?” punctuated the conversations that normally resound with anticipatory and premature goose calls.
Is spring finally here? Can it be that the geese will fly closer to home and in plentiful flocks that haven’t heard of a goose hunter decked out in all their camouflaged glory and hunkered down in some blind? I’m hoping so.
Perhaps in the deep south, the echoes of war compounded with play-by-play reports of Saddam and Osama broadcast by CNN (who were very glad to reopen their news office in Baghdad after the coalition forces seized control of the airport). Hey. Where are those guys anyways? Does anybody know? Apparently the Americans laid down 8,000 pounds of explosives to make sure that they got Saddam and his heirs (apparent), but is there enough evidence left over of any DNA that might have survived such a furious blast that they can determine that he is truly dead? What is the point of this? How can they ever be certain that they got him if there is nothing left to analyze?
Quite a thorough assassination I would say. A 30-foot hole was opened by enough explosive material to lay waste to those impenetrable underground bunkers that only smoke and rubble is left. I’m betting that their will be plenty of sightings of Saddam in the future, shopping in Baghdad marketplace or even sipping waters from Lourdes.
I think that somehow, Saddam met his ides of March in April of 2003. Aren’t the coalition forces actually doing Osama a favor by eliminating the infidel Saddam? So many questions to answer and not enough actual evidence left over to prove beyond a doubt that Saddam did meet his maker.
Back to the spring and the SARS epidemic. The world is really quite small and our counterparts in Ontario cannot get treatment or even enter a clinic due to the quarantine imposed by health officials. I’m not saying that SARS is anything more than an inconvenience but way back in the day when hospitals were rare and far apart, and plane schedules were nonexistent (pre-Austin Airways) the scourge of Scarlet Fever broke out in the north. People who were stricken with this disease often did not receive any treatment and were confined in quarantine to the islands offshore the James Bay coast, where people did perish and were buried in shallow graves. Such was the case for Fort George Island where many of the people inflicted were of Inuit origin and they were separated from the town by five miles of salt water. Now history is repeating itself but in modern day context, with all the advanced treatments available in the world cannot do a darn thing, you survive or die and there’s nothing funny about that.
Perhaps I could always look on the bright side and revive the Rhinoceros Party and poke some fun at the world as it is and to truly enjoy life. No matter how serious things are, there will always be some yahoo with clout in Parliament Rhino party or no Rhino party.