[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”]
Bam! Mego – Halcyon Times Columnist
Halcyon – ON — This week the marginally lucid and completely addled Bram Lebo comes at his readership with another lollapalooza of a column.
I must admit to a passing admiration for Lebo’s unabridged ability for ironic transgression.
This week he writes of Haliburton County’s upcoming election of its largely symbolic and utterly gratuitous position: Warden of the County.
Glen Campbell wrote a song once: “I am a lineman for the County and I ride the main roads… Searching in the sun for another overload…”
And of course whoever that obscure Texas lineman was galloping over hell’s halfacre in search of an electrical glitch?
That guy did more for his county than a Warden does for any rural seat.
And he did it in blue jeans, with a yellow hardhat while sucking on Jim Beam and smoking a Marboro.
So, sorry Bram, I don’t know what kind of medicinal ghoulash you’ve been toking lately?
But it’s time to jump off that swayback mule you call a column — and most call budgerie scat scooper. Yes, I’m just asking you to think a bit before attacking that keyboard on that old Toshiba laptop you own and stop and wait for that mellow high to dissipate before clunking away. You clunk long and arduously. But clunking is not writing. It’s that stuff that 95 orangutans pound out in a lonely MIT science lab where three professors are attempting to see if they can write a Shakespearean Sonnet.
I’ve got news for them, the orangutans and you fair Bram.
It ain’t gonna happen so please kick down that laboratory door and find sustenance. A coconut or a banana or an orange peel.
Just stop… oh, please just stop, putrefying the pages of that rag with your suckling nonsense.
Okay. So I know. We have provided the vitriol without the nut and I’m getting to that part.
So here’s what Lebola wrote in this week’s 2,454 word screed.
And an interesting start it’s been. (Warden Carol) Moffatt is not your typical politician, but a walking contradiction reflective of the county itself: a blend of attributes that anywhere else would get you thrown off the bus but a combination that, like that of the Highlands itself, creates pure magic. In a place reputed to have high levels of poverty and low levels of education, entrepreneurship, innovation and volunteerism thrive. Moffatt mirrors these dichotomies that drive the unique dynamism of Haliburton County. (Lebo Snippet from the Highlander — low levels of education? Shit bram even you have to know that’s borne out of your haughty disdain for all and sundry.)
For the record the Lebola Virus is this week calling for another year at the helm for Carol Moffatt, the erstwhile reeve of Algonquin Highlands and this year’s warden of choice in the Haliburton Highlands.
In a few weeks, the reeves and deputy reeves of the Highlands – county council – will decide who will be warden for 2014. On its face it’s a straightforward and very civilized process; generally, the reeves take turns. There are exceptions, for example when Murray Fearrey stayed on an extra year to provide continuity and experience during the economic meltdown a couple of years back. (Another typed plop from Lebo… what leadership and what consistency.. c’mon Bram give us all a break.)
At St Pius X High School where I had my bread buttered, the priests used to do the same thing. None of them wanted to be Principal, because it was a pain in the ass, so they took turns at the helm.
A County Warden? Same thing. It’s a shitty job that no one really wants, but ‘let’s git er done’ because it looks good on my LinkedIn profile.
Lebo is an anachronism. One of those antique writers who love nothing better than a silken cause created from a pig’s ear. Add a bit of purple to that prose and we have that weekly miasma called Lebola Virus.
An abomination of mixed metaphors, hackneyed plop and shoofly pap.
Wardens past have tended to look inwards, focused on the efficient delivery of county services and effective financial administration, two important but not the only objectives. Moffatt has taken the role of warden to an entirely new level. She provides the kind of leadership we need for this century, one that includes advocacy and a sense of purpose, as well as a sense of urgency. She has brought us to the start of our journey into the next phase of our political and economic existence. (Snippet from Lebo’s latest virus.)
Here’s the thing. You may only write that kind of caterwalling shineola if you provide a smidgeon of proof.
Here’s what we think about that.
I have no idea what or what not Ms. Moffatt has done in her captivating debut as a Warden for the County. Mr. Lebo has given us nothing except a series of strung together bupkis and bunk.
Just some hyperbolic rantings by a guy who now — I beg — must of needs find some sort of medicinal cure for this rampant botulism he pops to page.
And while we’re at it. I read with interest a sports report this week extolling the coaching of one Bruce Griffin. He apparently led his Hal High Red Hawk Junior team to a championship and an appearance at a Bowl game.
Only it wasn’t Bruce Griffin was it? Bram? Other editor guy? Now I must feel sorry for the writer Mr. Riley. Lord knows I have made similar blunders when I was a rambling drunk sportswriter (Pre March 20, 1998). Only thing is I had some backup in my editor who would quietly make the changes (from Griffin to Griffith) before it got to the page. Of course, no such editorial backup at the ol’ Highlander. And of course, the publisher just don’t care. He let his illiterate computer writer plagiarize for several months before I decided to step in and tell him. I let it go just to see how his own editorial instinct might kick in. It didn’t. He has no editorial instinct.
And now with a pretty big sports story. No oversight on a weak writer. I know wherefrom this emanates, because I was privy to Mr. Lebo’s rants on sports in general. He would rather sports just not exist. He would rather instead — spitballing — to have more room for his own sappy, purpled prose.
As in this week’s delightfully sophomoric grunts re County Warden.
Ah Bram. Keep delighting Halcyon with your bump and nudge. It’s great fodder at our local barber shop. And you’re making me look good.
I am a lineman for the County… and I ride the main road.
Looking for someone onto which I may unload.!
And Lebo… thank god… never ever disappoints.
Cheers Bam! Mego. @megohalcyon