Friday, December 26, 2008

Open Letter to the Mayor of Côte-des-Neiges/N.D.G.

Dear Michael,

You're a disgrace. More specifically, your entire borough is a disgrace. In the old days, like under Drapeau, a snowstorm was a trivial thing. Just the sound of the constant snowploughs actually became annoying, but at least you could walk to the store the next morning.

Since at LEAST December 11th, the streets and sidewalks and all public areas have had pretty much at best a nodding acquaintance with a snowplough, let alone salt or gravel.

It is so dangerous out there that I have personally witnessed three adults fall down at random and I have fallen at least six times in my so-called high-grip boots.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, has been touched for two weeks. There is not a shred of gravel anywhere. I have not seen a sidewalk scraper AT ALL. Outside a friend's mother's residence, basically a home for old folks, you could easily hire a hockey team to skate around the entire building and they'd have a complete blast.

I'd have mailed this as an open letter to the Gazette, but then I wouldn't have been able to include some of the "colourful" language you're about to read.

When are you "elected" officials going to get your fucking thumbs out of your asses, or more importantly, when are the fucking "vieilles-souches" city employees who sit around drinking beer for most of their shift for $30 an hour going to GET THEIR FUCKING SHIT TOGETHER and make this city safe for its citizens?

Uh, Michael, it's called sand, gravel and salt. SAND-GRAVEL-SALT. At the very fucking least!

We as a collective community should be suing the motherfuck out of you and Marv and the rest of the Jack-in-the-boxes, except YOU'RE ALL LAWYERS ANYWAY and would be lining up to take our cases to pad your already astronomical incomes.

C'mon down, Mikey, and TAKE A STROLL IN THIS NEIGHBOURHOOD. We'll go out for some beignets and Boréales with the street workers, shall we, while they work so assiduously? Oh, wait, maybe not, because you might value your kneecaps too much.

Get your shit together, Mr. Mayor, or YOU might be lining up at the Old Brewery Mission with cup in hand NEXT YEAR.

All the photos below were taken in a two-block stretch of Côte-des-Neiges between Decelles and Queen Mary. Click for larger previews. Please click on good ol' Mikey's name at the top to send him some CHRISTMAS GRRREETINGS.






4 comments:

  1. It is EXACTLY the same fucking thing downtown.
    I thought by living here i'd be mostly ice-free, but no, goddamn city ain't picking up shit anywhere.
    I agree with the rage and anger, I was looking out of the window while talking on the phone and I've seen people fall too.
    I like winter but fuck, if I pop my knee and get "grounded" during snowboarding season I'll be "pooping knees" at city hall myself.

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  2. This is the first year I've seen it so bad. These fucks are so busy calling elections that they could give a flying fuck what happens here. Tremblay et al fiddling while Montreal freezes.

    Dunno if you're the organizing type, Arlette (I'm not) but perhaps we should stage a protest sled-in at City Hall.

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  3. I am, but I don't know many people (who are in town) that would be up for it. I just saw a report on this on the news...everybody is pissed!
    and the city's answer was just plain stupid "not enough people to work during the holidays" I suppose they are talking about city officials...

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  4. Yeah, I saw the same thing. I heard the hospitals' emergency wards are raging at the city to do something because of all the people who're falling down. Ferchrissakes, this ain't Florida, and I think the folks in charge should have, like, MAYBE, some sort of CONTINGENCY PLAN for just these kinds of occasions?

    But they don't. They sit on their fat asses. FUCK the holidays when it's like this. Make them get their lazy-ass rumps off their couches and fuckin' EARN SOME MONEY. Fuck, give ME an ice-breaking snowplough and I'll be out there for 24 hours in a row earning overtime. Fuck Christmas. It'll still be there in the morning.

    But the truth is,

    THEY

    DON'T

    CARE.

    Let's hope it's THEIR grandmother who ends up with the shattered hip . . .

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