No Bossin' Around

The Conservatives won the federal election yesterday.

Fortunately, they'll only have a minority government. They won't get away with too much right wing shenanigans without another election being forced upon them. Apparently, minority governments only last, on average, for about eighteen months. So Canadians will get another a crack at it soon enough.

In the Sack's area, the NDP candidate was easily elected. Once again, we are represented by the social democrats (formerly, the democratic socialists) in both the provincial and federal governments. In other words, we voted against the people who sit in government at both levels.

It doesn't look like the old town will be getting any bones thrown its way for the next few years.

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There has been a lot of talk around here lately about T-shirts.

First, there was Big Doug and his "Hurry, Hard!" curling T-shirts. These garments left for Cuba on Saturday, accompanied by Big Doug. Cuban resort workers are probably relaxing in them right now. They'll be smelling good while they wear them, too. Gordon was bringing a supply of deodorant and mouthwash as part of his own humanitarian effort.

There was also talk about the Canadian Club Whisky T-shirts currently owned by one of the old town's waste management crews. In return for the shirts, they carted away Oscar's old fridge.

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Finally, there was a recent mention of T-shirts and the Marxist-Leninist Party of Canada. Further investigation indicates that neither the Marxists nor the Leninists have any marketing savvy at all.

According to the communist on the phone, "We are not now, nor have we ever been, sellers of T-shirts with the logo of the Marxist-Leninist Party of Canada."

At least, I think that's what he said.

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And now we have a shameful affair involving the Sack and some custom-made T-shirts. It happened several years ago but we can only speak of it now.

The inspiration for the T-shirts, I am embarrassed to say, was a boisterous four-year-old boy with speech problems. Of course, we are referring to the Sack's very own enfant terrible, young Doo.

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It was the summertime and Doo was making an auspicious debut into the hearts and minds of Sack residents. For the very first time, Doo's mom was letting the lad explore the depths of the Sack without supervision.

In other words, she sent him outside to play on his own for the very first time.

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It didn't take long for Doo to make his mark on the Sack's collective imagination.

Doo seemed to consider the entire neighbourhood as a larger extension of his house. For the first two months of the summer, Doo could be found rummaging through your garage, sitting on your porch or mucking about with the exterior finish of your car.

The other Sack kids weren't too sure what to make of Doo. On average, they were older. So it took some time for them to warm up to him. As a result, Doo spent a lot of time on his own.

As Doo was making his presence known throughout the Sack, he ended up on the receiving end of a few gentle lectures. Even Sack kids had to set him straight a few times.

Doo's response to admonishment was, to say the least, a bit defensive.

If he didn't like what he was hearing, he would loudly exclaim, "Yore notta botta mee!" In Doospeak, this is translated as, "You're not the boss of me!"

***

"Yore notta botta mee" became a catch phrase that spread like a wildfire. Before long, Sack residents of all ages were saying "Yore notta botta mee!" whenever there was a hint of being asked for something.

Dorian, Oscar's waggish son, would say it with great vigour whenever Oscar told him to do something. Of course, this is also what Oscar was saying to his wife, B.W. whenever she got in the way of his summer shenanigans.

Little Doug even said it to his work supervisor one day. There was great hilarity in the Sack when he told us about this. Oscar gently reminded him that the guy was, in fact, the "botta mee" in this particular case.

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September is when Oscarama is generally held. It's an annual festival held in celebration of Oscar's birthday. Several years ago, Oscar decided it should be a three-day affair.

This particular year happened to be a milestone birthday for Oscar. It was necessary to hold a formal pub crawl through the maze of bars and taverns in the old town's downtown quarter. There were about ten people involved in the pub crawl. Three of the Dougs, along with Gordon and myself, joined the festivities.

Pub crawls are something of a tradition in the old town. It's customary during the pub crawl to wear a souvenir T-shirt that marks the event. Typically, the T-shirts show the name or purpose of the group and list the names of the bars on the pub crawl agenda.

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The T-shirts for Oscar's pub crawl were white. On the back were the names and logos of the ten establishments selected to receive our company. On the front of the T-shirts, in bold, black type was the following:

"YORE NOTTA BOTTA MEE!!!"

Oscar had the T-shirts made. Everyone had great fun when they saw them. During the pub crawl, it caught people's attention, too. Some people would interpret the phrase right away. Others would read it slowly a few times and then cackle in recognition.

***

The T-shirts have never been worn by anyone since the pub crawl, at least not outside in the Sack.

Oscar was going to wear his once, but B.W. said she didn't think it was a good idea. If Doo's mom saw it and figured out where the phrase came from, she might not be too happy about it. This is, of course, makes a great deal of sense.

Nevertheless, people had a lot of fun with the phrase for a while. Every now and then, Little Doug will still say it.

He doesn't say it to his boss anymore though.

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While having fun at the expense of a speech-impaired four-year-old may not have been the most appropriate thing, the phrase has had one lasting benefit.

Since Doo still uses the phrase with some regularity, Sack residents are able to gauge improvements in diction and pronunciation. The phrase, one might say, is now a measuring stick for Doo's verbal development.

Unfortunately, young Doo has made only moderate improvement in this area over the past few years.

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So the T-shirt motif has now been fully explored. The election is over, too, so there's no need for more political chatter here.

It's time to get back to the business of living. The government can get back to running the country. And if we don't like the way they're doing it, we'll simply vote them out again. After all, it's the best way to say "Yore notta botta mee!" to politicians.

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