As the sun stubbornly rose on the darkest day in Ontario politics in living memory, millions of people across the province greeted it – and the news that a totally unqualified, gleefully incompetent candidate won a majority mandate – with a single expletive: “Fuck.”
Some repeated it while they wandered their houses thumbing through news articles and commiserating with friends via social media: “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck, fuck.”
Others turned it into a rising crescendo of obscenity that echoed off their walls and made their pets wonder if the world had somehow run out of kibble, or banned scratches behind the ears: “FuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!”
And many made it into a somber, steely mantra, that they promised to not stop repeating until this province comes to its goddamn senses: “Oh-fucka-fuckity-fuck-no, oh-fucka-fuckity-fuck-no, oh-fucka-fuckity-fuck-no.”
The rebel obscenity echoed through the quiet morning streets of central Toronto, as the majority of the city’s residents lay catatonic on bathroom floors, repetitively trying to wake from this unoriginal nightmare.
It sounded loudly across the silent lakes and tree-lined hills running from Killarney to James Bay, scaring moose, silencing blue jays, and making the ears of juvenile black bears swivel in surprise.
As far afield as the streets of Hong Kong, London, Sydney, Seoul, and Clearwater, expatriate Ontarians loudly swore, and then had to explain to the residents of these other countries that their home province had done something unbelievably stupid. That – after watching the United States elect a totally unqualified, inept, belligerently petty leader with a plan made entirely of duct-taped together slogans and promises written in disappearing ink – Ontario had effectively said “hold my buck-a-beer.”
Back home again, the province is collectively getting to its feet, 40.63% of it super excited to see $6 billion dollars materialize out of thin air without any services being cut, and the remaining 59.37% wondering how long it’s going to take them to realize what they’ve done, and how many people are going to suffer for it in the interim.
A mother in the riding of Ottawa Centre flicks on the light in the kitchen, opens the back door for the dog, and – having heard the kids already stirring upstairs – switches on the radio.
“Tonight we sent a clear message to the world,” Ford shouts out of the old General Electric. She turns it off with a swipe, and finishes his sentence for him.
“Yeah. Ontario is going in the shitter.” She leans her shoulder against the doorway in the cool, early morning damp, as she watches the dog circle in the quiet backyard, and then lets her head fall heavily against the support.