... or, in this case, reading your own blog. Here's Kate, getting all tinfoil-hat whackjob and conspiratorial:
"It became very clear that we, the Protective Detail, would have our hands full at this event."
Canada’s charter does, on the other hand, establish some pretty explicit protections for free speech. But what happens if you ask for protection from authorities when someone is infringing on your right to speak at a public forum?
Not much it seems.
In a real country, with real rights, and real journalists, this letter would provoke a national media scandal and formal investigation - but it won't, for all of the reasons stated above.
Posted by Kate at April 10, 2010 5:21 PM
Letter? What letter? Oh ... this letter:
... The letter details what happened at Ms. Coulter’s last stop, in Calgary, just days after rowdy students at the University of Ottawa forced organizers to cancel her appearance there.
Really? Rowdy students forced the cancellation of Ann Coulter's U of Ottawa appearance? I'm pretty sure that's not true, because I read it ... um ... oh, right, I read it here.
SDA's Kate McMillan: Because reading what your own co-bloggers write is too much like werk.
4 comments:
What these hypocrites want is the absolute right to a pulpit for Ann Coulter while people who disagree with her racist views are denied the right to non-violent protest.
Thank heavens Hitler is dead and can't rise to power again.
One wonders how KKKate and her thought-mates will react when Coulter starts spinning her own spin and trumpets that she was banned in Canada.
That'll sting. Or maybe not. After all, our Canada is not their Canada.
In a real country, with real rights, and real journalists, this letter would provoke a national media scandal and formal investigation - but it won't, for all of the reasons stated above.
Looks around, finds Canada exists. Examines Charter. Finds rights. Journalists? Few and far between the anymore thanks to the Right...but I digress.
Considering the lack of accuracy of any of these blogging tories, do they really want to go there?
The phrase that richochets around my addled noggin is "As a dog returneth to its vomit ..."
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