Environment Minister Emil Farquist, who represents Calgary North-Centre, where the attempted abduction took place, told reporters he will seek unanimous consent in Parliament, when it resumes next week, for the passage of an amendment to the Police Powers Bill allowing warrantless searches of suspected pedophiles.
In a press conference at his constituency office, he said combatting crime will be “a number one priority of this government” in the expected fall campaign, “especially crimes against our most vulnerable and cherished citizens, our children.”
§
Island Tides, Tuesday, September 17
The Personal Transformation Mission, a New Age commune that has set down roots on Garibaldi Island, plans to sponsor a rally on behalf of local MP and Green Party leader Margaret Blake.
Jason Silverson, leader of the group popularly known as the Transformers, says the commune’s several dozen adherents have expressed unanimous support for Blake’s platform for a healthy, sustainable environment.
Though as a U.S. citizen he isn’t qualified to vote, he said, “We are all in the same race — to save the planet from environmental catastrophe — an issue that transcends all borders.”
The rally will be timed for early in the campaign, expected this fall.
Silverson’s announcement was received with surprise by local Greens. Rev. Al Noggins, Blake’s campaign manager on Garibaldi Island, declined to comment.
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Global News, Tuesday, September 24
BULLETIN
With unexpected suddenness, Canadian Prime Minister Winthrop Fowler dismissed Parliament today, immediately after the reading of the Throne Speech. A federal election is set for Wednesday, October 30.
§
Huffington Post Canada, Wednesday, September 25
My Two Cents’ Worth, by Eugene Popoff
I call foul, Fowler. What a sham. But it was to be expected from the dirty tricksters that guide the fortunes of the Tory party.
I was in the Press Gallery and saw it all. No sooner had Governor General Bouvier finished his throne speech — a gift bag stuffed full of election candy — than PM Fowler dissolved Parliament, forcing what headlines are calling a snap election. A misnomer, given the government was about to fall on its kiester anyway.
The intended result was that Opposition parties were denied what has always been regarded as a solemn right to reply to the throne speech. Silence the Opposition! Another in an escalating series of assaults on what we once proudly called a democracy.
High-fives from smug-faced Tory backbenchers greeted Win Fowler’s announcement, while Opposition MPs stormed out and railed into the microphones of the assembled news media.
I have rarely seen Charlie Moss in such fine form, almost spitting mad as he heaped venom on the tricksters while aides passed out copies of his Throne Speech Reply. Clearly Moss, who has led the NDP from third-party status to Official Opposition, expects to topple the Fowler regime and return Canada to the international prestige it once enjoyed.
Marcus Yates, the Liberals’ hunky new leader, offered a cooler approach, with some levity directed at Fowler’s rush to get out of the Chamber. “I guess he really had to go,” he told a scrum of laughing (mostly female) reporters. Expect the Tories to launch a smear campaign against the thirty-nine-year-old former social worker, as they dig through their trove of old news photos showing him toking at pro-marijuana rallies.
It’s tragic that a fair clump of Canadians have bought into the image of themselves that the Conservatives are selling: tough, no nonsense, get things done. Things like an enhanced police state and the destruction of the environment.
Latest polls have the Tories at their traditional 33 percent. Enough to form a government if the Opposition splits its vote. The NDP is at 31 percent, the Liberals at 20 — a number likely to deflate as diehard Grits flock to the NDP as the devil they know. The Bloc has 8 percent, all in Quebec, and the Green Party, astonishingly, is holding at 6 percent.
My guess is that will evaporate too. In which case I expect Margaret Blake to lose her already tenuous hold on the GP leadership. Anyway, she has other things on her mind these days.
This election will be about democracy, Moss said. But a failure by Liberals and Greens to rally around the NDP could mean they’ll end up getting the government they deserve. Four more years of autocracy.
Eugene Popoff is research director for the Canadian Labour Congress.
THE SIERRA FILE
Wednesday, October 9
Dear Arthur,
I have just returned to my empty flat on rue de la Visitation from a fortnight in the Gatineau hills, where I made forays from a comfortable little hostelry in a village delightfully called Kazabazua, near Lac Vert.
Kazabazua (called Kaz locally) is the Algonquin word for underground river, and one does in fact disappear for several metres before surfacing and passing under a pretty bridge near my inn.
Residents are bilingual and very friendly. Those I chatted with in the restaurant and tavern found me rather fun and charming, I believe. I was a retired gentleman seeking to buy a chalet for my family. My children and grandchildren were skiing enthusiasts, unlike me, a clumsy oaf.
For what it’s worth, I now have one confirmed sighting of a blue Miata, this from a bartender who once owned a similar model. (As did I, I lied.) He recalled that about mid-morning one day last March or April it accelerated past his vehicle heading north on the Laurentian Highway, not far from Kaz. In his rear-view, he glimpsed a lone woman at the wheel. Une fumelle blonde.
Not very probative, I agree, but every bit counts. Of greater interest is that Emil Farquist has put his holiday home up for sale. Discreetly. No realtor’s sign is posted at his entrance road, no advertising of any kind.
My cover turned out to be un coup d’eclat, giving me access to area realtors, a talkative lot from whom I learned that the scene of the crime, as it were, is being shown by a private broker in Ottawa.
Her name is Rhoda Plumb, who, my inquiries revealed, is also a Conservative fundraiser. I met her by appointment at her downtown brokerage office. She was wary, fearing perhaps I was some kind of spy or investigator. But she recognized the names of the Gatineau realtors who had tipped me off, and seemed comforted to learn I had prospered through the private gem trade. I said I was interested only in a cash deal and her ears perked up.
She was careful not to mention the name of the vendor, but gave me a brochure with the specs on his property, described as “a stunning, private lakeside chalet on four pristine acres.”
Offered at $750,000. The owner was motivated.
Ms. Plumb advised that the property is encumbered with a $200,000 mortgage, and here I must admit to a horrendous lapse. I’d been aware of that mortgage — it’s recorded on the Quebec Land Register — but only on gong back to it online did I realize it was taken out on May 25, just a few days before Svetlana Glinka, according to Mr. Sabatino, suddenly lost interest in destroying Farquist’s political career. Telling, yes?
A few days later, Ms. Plumb picked me up at my inn and drove me to the chalet. I would love to say that I found various bondage implements lying about, but there was only furniture, nicely arranged for show. All personal possessions had been removed to storage. Photographs of the interior are being couriered by separate package.
I realize this doesn’t get us very far, but I think we can assume that Mr. Farquist’s legal fees are not being covered by the government, let alone whatever substantial sum was paid to Ms. Glinka.
Meantime, in my role as prospective neighbour, I made several fruitless attempts to connect with the other two property owners on this stretch of the lakeshore. They have not been out to the lake since summer. A groundskeeper serves the three properties but he seems to be avoiding my attempts at contact. I shall return.
As to Svetlana Glinka, I now have a lead, through various br
ain-deadening efforts on search engines, to a woman of that name who has recently opened a business on the French Riviera.
My flight leaves on Sunday.
Wish me well, as I wish the same for you.
Francisco
THE CLIPPINGS FILE
The Bleat, Wednesday, October 16
by Nelson Forbish
Almost our entire island and much more turned out at Starkers Cove for the Thanksgiving fundraising barbecue for Margaret Blake. Counting about 60 boats anchored in the cove, I’d guesstimate at least 400 locals and visitors came by to meet and greet her and enjoy the Transformation Mission’s homegrown chickens, ham, lamb, and veggies.
Margaret made a spirited talk asking voters not to believe in the polls and predicting that the Greens would surprise everyone on Monday. She accused the Conservative government of making an under-the-table deal to get Russian financing for the Coast Mountains Pipeline, saying it stinks. (See her Report from Ottawa, page 2.)
Margaret has just returned from the East on her cross-country “Train Campaign,” and, with five days to go before the election, she will be swinging up through Vancouver Island with a final weekend rally in Victoria.
Several fellow journalists from the mainland were on island enjoying our traditional hospitality, and despite a few complaints of overcooking from a cynical few, especially the ones from Ontario, this reporter had no beefs and even rejoined the line for seconds.
I learned the feast almost decimated the Transformers’ flocks and herds, and when asked about this, Spiritual Leader Jason Silverson said, “We believe in giving back. Whatever bounty we are blessed with, we share with all.”
Music was provided by the Fensom Family Singers, backed up by the Garibaldi Highlanders. Guided tours helped acquaint off-islanders with the Transformers’ program for sustainable, healthy living, and included a Q and A with the Eastern mystic Baba Sri Rameesh in his tent.
Your intrepid reporter dared approach His Grace after that session and got him to agree graciously to an interview and a profile. Expect a front-page exclusive in the next few weeks.
§
Maclean’s, October 28
by Douglas Fellows
If recent polls are to be believed, the Tories’ divide-and-conquer strategy is paying off.
As the opposition vote continues to splinter, it increasingly appears Win Fowler may enjoy the dubious comforts of 24 Sussex Street for another four years — with a majority, if the chips fall his way.
Though only 33 percent of decided voters back the Conservatives, they may be breaking out of the pack. Last week they squeaked two points ahead of the New Democrats, who, despite a lacklustre campaign, hold at 31. Still a virtual tie, given the margin of error, but Fowler’s aggressive law-and-order theme song is being listened to in the too-close-to-call ridings.
The Tories’ crusade to keep the socialist menace at bay, blasted relentlessly over the airwaves, also seems to be having an impact.
Marcus Yates, the personable Liberal leader, is surprising pollsters by holding his own, with a recent jump to 24 percent of committed voters — a figure buoyed by his growing female fandom. But the Tories are counting on siphoning from the Grits’ once-robust pro-business element. The question is whether the Liberal left will stay with Yates or go over to the NDP, led by the more combative but less attractive Charlie Moss, with his stiff, unconvincing smile.
Pre-election talk of a Grand Coalition to defeat the Tories has softened to a whisper, and that suits Fowler just fine. His aim is to ensure there’s an ample piece of pie for everyone on the left, especially the Greens — the PM is banking on its soft vote resisting the blandishments of the NDP. In the last leadership debate Fowler almost seemed to fawn over Margaret Blake, whose party is polling at only 5 percent, as is the Bloc Quebecois.
The Tories don’t compete much with the Bloc, which will remain a presence in its Quebec bastions, but Green support is spread across the country like a thin layer of cheese-topping, and they will be lucky to retain their four seats. They’ve been riding a one-trick pony: the oil sands, unproven allegations of hanky-panky relating to the Russian energy giant, Sibericon, and its investment in the Coast Mountains Pipeline.
Speaking of the Greens and their leader, let us not be blind to the issue that dares not speak its name: a certain $50 million slander action. It remains to be seen if the controversy, which has been muted during the campaign, will damage either combatant on election day. So far, Emil Farquist is riding high in Calgary, but Blake seems in for a fight on the unpredictable West Coast.
Despite the usual breast-beating, one detects the sweaty scent of pessimism in NDP campaign offices. You can almost hear Charlie Moss kicking himself for ducking the pleas, many from within his own ranks, for a united front against a government he disdains as autocratic and in thrall to that ever-handy bogeyman, big business.
Expect a leadership contest in the NDP should the Conservative strategy succeed.
§
Canadian Press, Wednesday, October 30
OTTAWA — Marcus Yates pulled off a stunning upset today as his Liberal Party rode a surge of support in the campaign’s last days, winning the federal election with 169 seats, one short of a majority.
There was jubilation in Liberal campaign offices as early results showed the Conservative and NDP vote collapsing in Atlantic Canada, with all seats going Liberal. The trend continued through the evening, Liberals gaining 145 new MPs, with representation from all ten provinces. Late polls were reporting a near-record turnout, widely believed to be due to the appeal of the charismatic young prime-minister-in-waiting.
With three seats remaining too close to call, the Conservatives will become the Official Opposition with 114 Members. The New Democrats fell to 45 seats, the Bloc Québécois took six, down from nine, and the Green Party retained its four ridings.
Prime Minister Winthrop Fowler, in his concession speech, told muted supporters he will step down as Tory leader.
Meanwhile, pundits and pollsters, nearly unanimous in predicting a narrow Conservative win, have been left scratching their heads.
THE SIERRA FILE
Thursday, October 31
Dear Arthur,
It seems I am wedded to this primeval typing machine, my wireless, unhackable Olivetti portable, for it has faithfully accompanied me to the French Riviera.
First off, let me offer congratulations to your intrepid wife for her solid and well-deserved victory in Cowichan and the Islands, and her party’s handsome showing overall in bucking the tide that brought the new government to power.
I must say I sat riveted and sleepless as I watched the polls report online. If the recount in Halifax East turns out well for the Greens, there will be more reason to celebrate. Professor Chalmers is only fourteen votes behind — hardly insurmountable.
Meanwhile, I have been two weeks in a lovely ancient stone cottage that I can’t believe has not been immortalized by Paul Cezanne. It is in a village in the hills above Nice, and rents by the week, though not exorbitantly compared to the Riviera hotels. (I have doubtless overspent in restaurants, and am feeling embarrassed.)
But now to Svetlana Glinka.
It was astonishingly easy to find her, and just as hard to get her to spill, if you’ll forgive the argot.
She has opened up a small shop on Rue de la Loges, in the old quarter. The sign on the door simply says “Intime.” A sex shop, its wares are displayed candidly behind a lattice window: lace delicates, love juices, dildos.
I lurked outside awhile with camera and notebook, watching Ms. Glinka assist a young couple. From what I could make out she was stretching what seemed a demonstration condom, displaying its strength and elasticity to her two customers.
I entered after the couple left with their purchases. Ms. Glinka looked at me pleasantly, welcomed me, and offered to answer any questions.
&n
bsp; I thought that was a good beginning, and I jumped at the opportunity too eagerly, asking if she knew that Lou Sabatino had disappeared.
That took her aback; her mouth opened but no sound came out.
I explained I was an investigator — I gave her my card — and that I’d been tasked to find Lou. His disappearance, I said, may have had something to do with the video recording she had shown him.
I was hoping for a quick admission that we could take to court but made the classic error of ignoring sound practice. I ought to have warmed her up, flattered her, congratulated her on her new business, asked to be shown about, perhaps bought an aid to masturbation. But no.
Wordlessly, she advanced on me, and I braced myself for a physical attack. But she merely gripped my right elbow, turned me around, and propelled me toward the door.
I dared not resist this athletic woman, but urged her to hear me out, to help save the life of her good friend and former neighbour.
But in seconds, I was outside her door, which she locked. I was without a plan, and could only stand there, staring within, as she made a phone call.
Handily, there was a cafe directly across the street, and a sidewalk table was free. So I ordered a latte and pretended to read the Guardian while peeking over it.
When Svetlana showed up at her window, still on the phone, she observed me observing her. I was feeling very foolish. The best I could do was wait her out. During the next thirty minutes, a few customers tried her door, peered inside, then wandered off.
Then a tall, thin gentleman in a natty suit, with an old-fashioned cravat, alighted from a taxi directly in front of me and came to my table.
“Would you permit me to join you, sir?” he said — in English, for which I was thankful, my French being laboured. This was obviously Svetlana’s emissary, and he seemed a decent sort, and I offered a chair beside me.
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