the developer, MLA and conservationist

by underswansea

Sometimes you have to wonder. How did it happen? When did the minority start calling the shots? In this valley the local politicians, environmental assholes, developers and business people make plans for the future, while people that have been around for a long time peck like chickens for crumbs.

Pecking for crumbs has never been the problem. One percent of people have always been assholes. That’s not new. The difference is the one-percent now own the lot. They run for office, build their mansions polluting the shores. They talk about exploiting the water to attract more buyers. How it will create jobs. Jobs they would never be caught dead doing.

One of the big developers just got his way. I first met him 30 odd years earlier, when I was taking his furniture because he hadn’t paid his bills. It’s not surprising the Provincial Liberals are now in his pocket. Thieves tend to stick together. He isn’t resting. He’s lining up the next MLA, a handsome mug who gets his picture in the paper at every ribbon cutting and cheque presentation, whether he is welcome or not. It’s all to see the project through.

There is an old car down in the sloughs. The rushes and tall grass have grown through the motor and rusted floorboards. It is short of waters edge. I wonder how it got there. The ride down the bank. The jump when it settled. Perhaps it floated across from Goose Island manned by a pack of convicts sick of exile. Who the fuck knows? But it is there and that’s what’s important.

You can look across while you stand beside the derelict wreck and see the town of Wilmer. The trees are larger than most of the houses. It is the way the valley used to be. One big house stands out. It is a mansion built by someone who tried and failed to maintain the appearance of conservation. It has a blue tin roof, and is nestled like a sore martian cock on the edge of oblivion.

They climb mountains, jump on planes, leave shit scattered in Nepal and the Andes and bring back calendar photos. They say they love it and that’s what makes it all right. To feel better they pull iron from the wetlands. And preach. And get their photos taken at every green chance they get.

They’re all the same to me. The developer, MLA and conservationist.

When did we turn the valley over to these assholes?

We’re pecking and can keep it up longer than the one percent can find value. We always have and always will. But shit, it’s hard sometimes.

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