Torn:Elderly men on how to overcome their own political impotence

I'm torn between two conflicting desires, both revolving around the fate of PP, the embattled leader of the Conservative Party. On one hand, I'd gleefully witness their downfall, purely for the comedic value it would bring. Imagine PP disappearing into the abyss of corporate conservatism, landing a lucrative gig in a Calgary office tower, where they'd peddle advice to wealthy, elderly men on how to overcome their own political impotence. The irony would be palpable, a delicious serving of schadenfreude.

On the other hand, PP's continued reign as Dear Leader would be a godsend for writers of political satire in Canada. The material would be endless, as they'd continue to provide fodder for jokes and ridicule. The Toronto and Calgary PR industries would also reap the benefits, tasked with the Sisyphean feat of convincing the public that, indeed, gravity is just a myth, and Hollywood blockbusters are a menace to Alberta's economy.

Meanwhile, as we dwell on the PP saga, the reality of Alberta's housing market comes into stark focus. While housing costs are decreasing across Canada, our beloved province remains an outlier, where prices stubbornly refuse to budge. Coincidentally, Alberta also happens to be the measles capital of North America, a dubious distinction that speaks volumes about our priorities as a society.

This province, which claims to cherish its youth, systematically undermines their futures by underfunding K-12 public education, neglecting their preparation for an uncertain tomorrow, and offering them the lowest minimum wage in Canada as a cruel joke. To add insult to injury, funding for mothers fleeing domestic violence is slashed, and our already overwhelmed emergency rooms are left to deal with the fallout of preventable illnesses affecting our children. It's a bleak picture, one that portends a dire future for our province.

In light of these circumstances, if you're considering fleeing this corporate-tinged, provincial MAGA paradise, now might be the optimal time to make your move. I'll be green with envy, stuck in this dystopian landscape, praying for a miracle to deliver me from this existential quagmire.

On a more personal note, my own reality is a constant struggle. The slumlord who manages my apartment building has seen fit to raise the rent—again. Last year's increase was justified by the carbon tax, or so I was told. Funny thing, though: when the carbon tax was repealed, my rent didn't decrease. Instead, it surged upward, by a whopping three times the rate of inflation, beginning August 1. It seems some individuals are more adept at playing the system than others.

As I reflect on my predicament, I'm reminded that things could always be worse. I could be among the growing ranks of the displaced, wandering the streets, unsure of where my next meal or night's rest would come from. Meanwhile, our elected officials are too busy hobnobbing at the Calgary Stampede, indulging in mini donuts and photo ops, to address the pressing concerns of their constituents. The juxtaposition is jarring, a harsh reminder of the vast chasm between our leaders and the people they're supposed to represent.

Bonnie Crichley