It sounds a little, well, a little scatological: income sprinkling.
I think I agree with Conservative senators. There. That wasn’t so hard to say after all.
When I was nine or 10, two or three boys the same age bent me backward over a guardrail one day and said they wouldn’t let me go until I told them what Tampax was.
Menstruation was not something I talked about with my mother or sisters, let alone with boys. I was mortified.
The sign was posted in a doctor’s office in Miramichi, N.B. for all to see: “Attn: Native patients. Please don’t ask for tranquilizers or pain medications.”
It’s a point that’s almost funny: after we spent years complaining about how successive governments packed the Senate with their own party faithful and supporters, we’re now complaining about the same House of Parliament gradually filling with independents who have their own ideas about legislation, and aren’t afraid to use them.
It seems that when you get my age you seem to hear the phrase, “B’y, this growing old sucks.” And I am inclined to agree with this, but then someone comes up with, “It sure beats the hell out of the alternative.”
Food for thought.