I voted this morning not long after the polls opened. It was done quickly. There were large numbers of names on the ballot, some of whom I wondered
about. I had heard of Doug Ford, but Doug Fort, Doug Forn, Doug Form, Doug Fork, Doug Forde, and Doug Fold were just names to me.
Oh well. it takes a village. I voted for one of them.
It did puzzle me as to why John Tory's name was in 72 pt. print while everyone else's was in 12 pt., but then I assumed that the people who print
The Toronto Star
also printed the ballots.
I must say that I was truly moved to read, in the Sunday Star, about Mrs. Tory's near death experience at the hand of a rare disease, Guillain-Barré
Syndrome, in 1991. It took her months to recover. That alone would be enough to persuade any person with an ounce of common decency in them to vote
for Mr. Tory. I'm sure the editors at The Star were thinking the same thing when they printed the story.
Imagine that, a French disease almost killed John Tory's wife 22 years ago
. Sitting down to mark my ballot, I thought of that story, and of the
decency of The Star to remind me of that near fatal encounter that could have been a complete game changer. If, heaven forbid, Mrs. Tory, I mean Mrs.
Hackett-Tory, or whatever the hell her name is, had been taken from us we might have had someone else, like in the mold of Marlen Cowpland as the
There is certainly nothing wrong with Marlen, but it would have been different.
The mere thought that some French "designer disease" straight from Paris could have such a profound impact on life here in our little town and would
have, had it not been for a selfless act by a prep school chum of one of the Tory children, made my mind up for me. I had intended to vote for one of
the scruffy Ford brothers, but journalism like that practiced at The Star
and its sister publication Gawker
, won the day. No French
designer disease was going to ruin Toronto's future if I had anything to do with it.
Shockingly, I voted for Doug Ford anyway. I was shaken out of a feeling of sappy sympathy for a danger long passed by my French cologne. I had
splashed on some Issy Myake "Et tu Brute"
this morning and thankfully, the scent of it in the voting booth had brought me back to my own high
sense of purpose. I stuck the knife into the hopes of the "family compact" (John Tory), as Toronto's very first Mayor, William Lyon MacKenzie
would have done.
However, the ballots are being counted tonight and I am going to follow it on the web as best I can, and invite others to do so with me.
Note: Satire alert. Some falsehoods occur in the above.
edit on 27-10-2014 by ipsedixit because: (no reason given)