(This
column was published in the North
Shore News on
Dec. 30, 1998)
Reflections on a brighter new year
By Leo Knight
WAINWRIGHT,
Alberta -- Maybe it's the eggnog as I sit here in the frozen
lands of Alberta causing my mind to wander, contemplating the
fantasy of what life might be as we wind into the final year of
the 20th century and the advent of a new millennium.
But this is the time of year for reflection -- with or without the eggnog.
First
off -- I know -- the new millennium doesn't technically start
until the stroke of midnight on Jan. 1, 2001, but the bulk of
humanity seems to want to get off to an early start and who am I
to buck that flow?
For
starters, in the past year we have had to tolerate la cirque de
Gillian. The supercilious nonsense emanating from her mouth is
more than we should have to bear.
She
was a juror who played a little bit of "how's your
father" with an accused murderer who couldn't believe his
dumb luck when the goo-goo eyes started from the jury box.
Six
accused murders were subsequently acquitted following the
longest criminal trial in B.C. history. The restart of a
shooting gang war, which is still causing bullets to fly around
our fair city, followed. Not to mention a rising body count.
Guess'
spin on the matter was amusing though.
"You
can't tell your heart who to love," bawled the blonde.
Apparently
love has been confused with an overactive libido.
In
my dream for a new millennium we never hear "Gillian"
and "Guess" in the same sentence.
Speaking
of which, it was nice for the city to get an early Christmas
present this year with the untimely demise of self-styled
gangster and admitted dope dealer Bindy Johal. Apparently doing
the frug on the dance floor of a certain Richards Street
nightclub is hazardous to your health.
But
this ties in with the next part of my New Year's wish.
The
mainstream media in this town made Johal into a larger than life
"gangster." He was no such thing. He was an admitted
cocaine dealer and a bully. Nothing more.
Johal
and his kind are a dime a dozen. They want the easy life
provided by the drug culture. Fast cars, enough gold to make a
Mr. T starter kit, groupies hanging off their arms. They just
don't want to work for the trappings of wealth. They think this
brings them respect.
With
arrogance fuelled by cocaine and pumped up by steroids, these
guys strut around and bully anyone who gets in their way much in
the way the "Russians" -- the Filinov brothers -- did
in the early '90s. And we know where they are now. Hanging out
with Bindy.
The
problem -- and these guys know it -- is that the police have to
play by the rules and they don't.
Look
at the hand-wringing going on because the New Westminster police
have decided to fight a little fire with fire and all the
screaming Lord Chamberlains strutting about in front of the
cameras and microphones decrying the "police state."
There's
nothing laudable about being a bully -- with a gang of
juiceheads at your side and a pistol in your jeans.
They
certainly don't deserve the blown-up reputations provided by the
media looking to sensationalize. Although most, like Bindy,
ultimately do get what they deserve.
Perhaps
in the new year and the next century, the media will learn to
make heroes of those who work for society and pillory those who
work against it.
Then,
as I sip another eggnog and look ahead, there's the potential
promise of an event eagerly awaited by more than 85% of the
province, according to the latest polls.
Ah
yes, an election. A New Year's wish to make my heart fairly jump
with excitement.
Is
there any chance we might see such an event in this, the last
year of the 1900s if not actually the millennium?
Probably
not. With Glen Clark lower than boa constrictor droppings in the
polls, it's hard to see this, arguably the most corrupt
government this province has ever seen, giving us a chance to
rid ourselves of them.
But
hope springs eternal.
Wouldn't
it be nice for a new millennium to have a government that
recognizes it is supposed to take care of our collective
interests and not the interests of them and their cronies.
And
imagine, just imagine, if you could, watching the six o'clock
news and seeing a clip of a politician not lying.
Tinkerbell,
Tinkerbell take me with you to Never Never Land.
And
we'd have judges who would actually consider the ramifications
of their actions on the rest of us. And prisons that aren't fun.
No
golf courses.
No
dope or booze.
No
private country club atmosphere so the bad guys would actually
care about not going to jail.
Assuming
of course, the judges would actually send them there.
Imagine.
And
bureaucrats who recall that the essence of their job is service
-- as in civil service. Not BCGEU service. Not covering
incompetent ministers' butts. Not bleeding the public purse to
perpetuate their own petty little empires. Wouldn't that be just
swell?
Let
your mind run free: To what a pleasure it would be if that were
true.
You
see, these things are all within the power of a government that
puts the public first.
You know. Just like the phrase "public service" is supposed to mean.
Nah. It's probably just the eggnog.
-30-