I have begun to believe my mind is full of tiny little topics that act like pimples.

No one can predict the order they start to fester in, or when they’ll get ripe and burst.

Tuesday, 3 January 2012

What’s Goan On?

What’s Goan On?

Smee all you Guys and Gals                      
It’s going to be an interesting one.

If you’re reading this right now you’re wondering
“What the hell are these guys up to?”
That’s a good question so I’ll try and answer it.
But first I’d like you to look at the guy in your mirror.
Answer one question.
Do the pair of you have anything in common?

The guy in there is sick! He’s so damn sick he’s qualified to be a Licensee of the Marihuana Medical Access Program and what did it get him? Nothing he needed.
He’s licensed to buy and possess a product that is virtually impossible to find at a price that he can afford to buy. He’s also been rendered Invisible and impossible to locate. He has become part of a group that is so secret that Health Canada won’t even let them know who each other. Licensed buyers can’t find Licensed Designated Growers

The guy in there needs help information and a voice. There is nothing available. He’s been sick for a long time and he’s either broke or able to work part time but the poverty line in Canada is $21000. The best Pension combination (for a totally disabled old fart getting maximum OAS and CPP), and employment in a full time minimum wage job both yield a before tax income of about $ 18000 a year. If he has more than a one gram a day license he can’t afford purchase it from the only legal retail source available. A one gram a day minimum costs 10% of his income and he is screwed. It’s a desperate situation and he wants to complain so he starts trying to find information as to how to get his ass out of the grinder and there is none available.

Now the Harper government intends to turn the now legal growth of both Personal and Designated Licensees into a Criminal activity. He apparently is trying to create enough unreported crimes to fill all those unnecessary prisons he’s got planned. NOT!
The guy in the mirror has no voice in the matter or any political impact so I decided to give him a voice and some political clout.

I decided to create Goan Smee and become The.Smee.Goan.Guy.

I want Goan Smee to be a gathering place and central locus of information for all Licensees. First I have to find you! 

If you have one thing in common with the guy in the mirror and you want to complain and bitch and yell and tear your hair out and tell the bastards what they are doing, you now have a voice doing it for you.

I intend for The.Smee.Goan.Guy   to be a direct link between the victims on the receiving end of the plans and the buggers who are doing the planning. My Request for Help was copied to every MP, Every Senator, and every media and news contact I could Google. All in all, as of this morning I have sent my package to about 900 recipients who are now opening them. Results should be interesting, tune in later.

  The.Smee.Goan.Guy  is now your voice to Ottawa and it isn’t going to be a nice voice. The polite protest and deferential approach through channels hasn’t worked for the ten whole years that they have taken to ignore and fuck up the program. It’s not just Stevie the Weavil because Brian and Jean chose to ignore it as well and they set the pattern for all the liars and distorters of truth that we elect to shit on us.

By good fortune I have great pride in my skill as a shit disturber. I also have a facility with words that lets me take some bureaucrats proposal or statement by using viciously, nastily, sarcastically, insulting, possibly profane common sense to slice the shit out of his arguments and make him look ridiculous. I am quite proud of my portrayal of our leader Stephen Harper having a fatal human flaw when addressing his crowd of sycophants and suckholes with the following taken from my poem and song “FLATTULENCE”

Our Leader Stephen Harper was up in front the crowd,
Defending his position, arrogant and proud.
He seemed a Super Hero, and almost won our heart,
Then he proved that he was human, he cut an AWFUL fart.

The M.C. turned his back on him, pretends he wasn't there,
A truly nauseous odour started rising on the air,
The Coroner's verdict came back quick, 12 voters died en masse
From consuming too much bullshit, then inhaling poison gas.


Fart, fart, fart, fart, whistle, bang and wheeze,
Odorous and awful now it floats upon the breeze.

On that note
I’ll leave you with a grin
What’s next?
You’ll never know what until you tune in again.
Bookmark me now!

Whatever you find it won’t be boring!

In closing
I look forward to knowing you

Y’all come back