Why not Let Highlander Publisher Bram Lebo run the county?
TERRANCE GAVAN – PARDON THE ERUPTION EDITOR
Lest we forget. As election draws nigh.
And assholes ramp up rhetoric with the alacrity of the ebola virus on crack cocaine.
We present the legendary – in his own mind – Bram Lebo, who weakly (sic) provides a hoary pastiche of nonsense on a platter for the edification of not anyone in particular and no one particularly.
This week, unsolicited, Bram Lebo (Our own Lebola Virus on a shitstick) has solved the intractable issue of Highlands tourism.
Oh, what a wonderful wee sprite. Willy nilly offering cure for what ails you poor tramps and wayfarers in cottage country.
On Monday and Tuesday, the Ontario Highlands Tourism Organization (OHTO) will hold its annual general meeting and a tourism workshop at the Pinestone. Local tourism operators have been invited to learn about a number of topics from a variety of experts.[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”]
As I’ve written before in this space, OHTO is neither the right vehicle to promote tourism in Haliburton County nor competent to do so. The only proof needed is that it represents an area that doesn’t exist. OHTO is responsible for the counties of Haliburton, Frontenac, Hastings, Lanark, Lennox and Addington, and Renfrew, which it collectively calls the Ontario Highlands. There is no such place; never has beenMr. Lebola Virus Bram Lebo.
This delivered so unctuously and unfathomably from the wee mind of this Lebola Virus in a column last week.
Oh would a world so devoid of mindless claptrap welcome such idiocy on a weakly (sic) basis.
We welcome this solicitous bullshit every week, because we find it outstandingly funny, not funny ha-ha but funny odd; odd in the way we welcome spittoon utterances from the mouths of trailer park republicans, Sarah Palin, springs to mind, who would wish upon a star and mandate a world where idle meanders suddenly abut resoundingly against gigantic frolics with grandeur.
These are people who place a surplus F18 rocket engine onto the back of their El Camino pickup truck and then light er up. Fecklessly ignoring what common sense would dictate. Brave new worlds were founded thus. The ashes and brake lines spun out into the distance ending somewhere on a rock face with the Darwinian stamp of approval. Here sits the ashes of one bucolic dreamer who while approaching quixotically to the speed of sound has… alack and alas only served to remind us how Darwin was right. The guy what burned so bright in his lemon yellow El Camino has contributed, quite rightly to that Darwinian complex… thinning the herd for the lack of some valuable synaptic cohesion.
Like Lebo and Palin and other large thinkers… sometimes the idiots slip through the cracks and live through the thinning process by some fluke of nature.
Live and indeed thrive on the edge of some hoary abyss, enlivening all of our lives with the thrill and thrall of their lunacy and how it shines so beautifully in denouement; the irony of the moron… the clash that proves the rule.
Lest we fault the nature in the stars that allow such morons (Lebo and Palin) to survive through the Darwinian bullseye planted squarely on their backs/ Let us look instead to the value we find from the ruddy posturing of the idiots in our midst.
Lebo for instance blathering on about how tourism experts don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.
Which is what he does this week.[/fusion_builder_column][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”]
In representing a fictional region, OHTO (or rather the province that created it) demonstrates from the get-go that it doesn’t know the first thing about marketing, which is to understand what it is you’re selling. That’s too bad, because they get a lot of money we could put to better use at the county level with our tourism program. But it’s so much worse than that. The program for the meeting boasts that the keynote speaker has an “an affinity for The Highlands. Born and raised in the lee of Gros Morne Mountain in Newfoundland… with her mother coming directly from the Highlands of Scotland, and blessed… with living in the midst of the Cape Breton Highlands.”Is that some kind of joke? Or do they really think one Highlands is the same as another? .Mr. FlubbedyJub Lebola
See. Lebola the Virus knows tourism. He knows the industry. He can cure it.
He is like the guy in the El Camino. He has the answer. OHTO is not the answer. That’s what Lebola V is telling you Highlanders.
He has strapped the rocket on. He is ready to illuminate the township with the answer. We think… or I thought that he was going to provide us with the solution.
If you think so too. I will save you the trouble. There is no solution here. Just the Lebola Virus coughing, wheezing and spreading sophomorically his intangible grasp on the small universe he inhabits.
He hates the ideas… and will tell you he has the cure. But like we try to do with ROFO and DOFO The Fords… we parse the rest of this utterly insufferable diatribe for answers? And we get nothing except Lebo telling the good people of Haliburton what’s wrong.
Hmm. At least the guy in the El Camino has the guts of his own conviction.
He strapped on that rocket and rode it to its conclusion.
Maybe someone … please someone, anyone… could deliver the following to the Highlander offices. So that we might be spared the duplicitous offal emanating from that thing he calls a column.
- One rusted F150 Ford Pickup.
- One Turnev 1980 Rocket from a Russian landfill.
- Seven Bungie cords and a come-along strap.
- Enough jet fuel to get from Haliburton to the nearest rockface.
- A copy of his latest rant on Tourism.
- A bottle of Champagne to bid him on his way.
- And last but not least… A copy of Darwin’s Treatise on Evolution and Survival of the Fittest.
- PS … Don’t forget to strap him in and push the Red Button labelled (Next stop Gdansk!)
Let me know how it ended.
Cheers Haliburton… send me the selfie.
Get gav @terrancegavan
And email firstname.lastname@example.org