Rose's Cantina

Excerpt from Distressed Pavement coming in July.  Katrina Lemieux twirled around in her ergonomic chair to look out at the spectacular view from her Gatineau office, which overlooked the Ottawa River. At thirty-eight, she was the youngest Deputy Minister that Climate Change Canada had ever had. She had all the credentials: a Bachelor of Science in Environmental Studies from Simon Fraser University, an MBA from McGill, and a certificate in digital marketing from Ottawa University.  She was regarded as a both an expert on environmental policy and a communications guru who had more than a million Instagram followers. But she was also a human lightning rod, adored by the left and abhorred by the right.  Her head was on the block now that the Tories had taken over the reins of power, and she knew it. Soon this office would be inhabited by some oil-loving, environment-gouging creep from Alberta. She had heard that her job was being shopped around at the Petroleum Club in...

In the end, I couldn't finish it. For the past two weeks, I've tried -- in the interest of blog journalism -- to slog through Filthy Shades of Grey. At one point, I thought there was something wrong with me. Perhaps it was time to get my hormones checked. Fact is, I didn't find anything remotely erotic about the damned book. It's like E.L. James went to the library and checked out Letters to Penthouse and cribbed the worst parts. There was nothing titillating about the descriptions. It was just stupid. And mildly alarming. This kind of sexual guidance is likely to get a girl raped. Or worse. What kind of young woman would ever fall for a guy like this, trust him before knowing him, allow him to do all manner of shit to her and beg for more? No woman I have ever met. Police arrest guys like this. The suits in Hollywood made a television show. It was called Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. It's puzzling to me why women read this drivel. I only rea...