Pathetic

Sudan, another failed state destroyed by tribalism, is totally f-cked.  So, all the "Canadians" living there -- people who, like the Lebanese, get Canadian citizenship purely for convenience and free health care -- are scrambling to get out.  John Ivison, 'Globe and Mail' columnist, wrote about this today as he outlines the thousands of "Canadians" who actually claim child tax benefits and welfare while living permanently in Sudan!   

Canada was duped by these people, who are now desperate to get out as Canada was woefully and embarrassingly unprepared to deal with them, thus they have to hitch rides on the coattails of the Americans and Germans because we don't have any planes.

Frankly, I'd just let these ex-pats stay and find their own way out.  They chose to live there, so that's what happens.  What I want to know is will the Canadian government pay the US and Germany back for their flights?  And, more importantly, will these evacuees pay us back for their free rides to safety?  I am sure I don't even have to hazard a guess on these questions; we all know the answers.  Here we are, as usual, hitching a ride with the US:

The escapees I've seen interviewed have not been asked why they were in Sudan in the first place.  When I was a journalist, that's the first question I would have tabled.  "What were you doing in Sudan, how long had you been there?  How long were you planning on staying?  What were your plans for leaving?"  But those questions are too pointed and difficult, so no one asks them.  

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What I really want to talk about, however, is the tour we took yesterday of a new condominium development -- at least that's how B framed the outing when he suggested it.  "There's an interesting new condo down near Olympic Plaza.  Why don't we take a look?" he slyly suggested.

When we arrived, I discovered he had arranged for lunch in the charming Bistro with the director of the place.  Yes, it was all lovely, the suites were beautiful, the meal was delicious -- including wine -- the art show fascinating and the tour very interesting.

The only thing that wasn't appealing were all the old people mumbling and stumbling around with walkers.  You guessed it, this was not a tour of a new condo, it was a tour of an assisted living facility.  Yikes!  I am nowhere near ready to move into one of these depressing habitats, but B is six years older and a lifelong, obsessive planner.  (It was not for no reason he was the youngest president, and only Canadian, ever elected as head of the North American Society for Corporate Planning.)  Can you see me hangin' with these folks, not an adult beverage in sight?  Exactly.

I felt so old roaming around, but at least I know there are such lovely, affordable places when the time comes.  Frankly, I secretly harbour a murder-suicide plan when we get too old to manage, like the ones you read about in the newspapers.  You know, "Elderly couple found dead in their home of apparent murder-suicide."  So as not to make a mess, I'd kill B in the shower and then climb in and kill myself.

Or maybe not.

OK, OK, I know it sounds crazy, but who wants to live in one of these abominations -- as nice as the one we visited yesterday?  Ah well, that's way down the line for me, but if he wants to check in he can.