Collector’s Edition: Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll

Collector’s Edition: Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll

TrollRectangleThe sad truth is that federal election campaign demands overcame us here at Humans vs. Harper and we never found the time to check in with the Troll. We were able to verify that the Troll and SpinDog, fractious, but ever-loyal companions, did get out of remand. And, the other day someone messaged us to say they spotted the Troll hammering in pro-Nipper signs on an especially lovely front yard in an upscale Edmonton neighborhood. They didn’t think to take a photo, so that sighting sits in our Unconfirmed Rumors file. We have no update on SpinDog and we would never want to speculate on his doings. So this collected version of Troll stories marks our farewell to these boon companions, a pair of characters we will always hold dear.
Click here for your copy of the complete Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll. 

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter Nine

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter Nine

TrollRectangleSo it’s noon and we are heading out for our first door-knocking shift.

Feeling a little shifty cause Spindog came over to the motel last night and we went drinking.

We got this huge box of stuff, CDs and everything, in the trunk all about the free money for the kids and how to sign up people. We got the ID badges on and we got another huge box of Party t-shirts in case anybody asks for one. And lots of other Party stuff in the back seat.

Spindog is reading up on the tax deal in the front seat. It’s supposed to be simple, but it’s not.

He says to me, “I got an idea.”

“Can’t wait,” I say.

“We’re only getting paid $20 an hour,” he says“

And all our meals and rooms are paid for,” I say.

“Just, let me finish, man.”

He says, “We’re going door-to-door anyway, so why not try and make money at the same time? Greenpeace pays people to go door-to-door to raise money for them, so let’s sign up to do that.”

“Oh yeah, Greengrease, that’s the ticket,” I say.

He says he’s done it before and made money and it’s real easy.

“They’’ll never know,” he says.

Besides, if Poilievre can wear whatever T-shirt he wants, why can’t we?”

So we jump in the car and spend an hour at the ratty little Greengrease office getting set up, with Spindog doing all the talking, saying we both did it before. The woman says don’t push people too hard and we take off with clipboards and Greengrease T-shirts. By now it’s lunch and we go to Mickey D’s. Everything takes for fucking ever.

Back in the car we head out to a part of the city called Strathcona. Spindog has his Greengrease T-shirt on and I’m knocking on doors. Finally, someone answers and I go into the speech. “Do you have children under 18?” is the first thing we’re supposed to ask.

“Well, who are you?” the woman asks.

So, we show her the ID and she’s looking it over real careful. Meantime, I’m trying to show her the tax stuff, so she gets the picture. Then Spindog decides to start talking about Greengrease.

The chick starts getting freaked out so I’m trying to shut up Spindog and he’s not listening and she up and slams the door on us.

So me and him are on the sidewalk and I’m saying, “One thing at a time, dude. First the taxes, then Greengrease or first Greengrease and then taxes – I really don’t give a fuck.”

He says, “Let’s go for a beer.”

I say, “Let’s finish this street and then go for a beer.”

So we try next door. No one’s home and that’s the way it goes.

Next thing, a cop car pulls up.

“Howdy, boys. What’s up? Let’s see some ID.”

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter 11

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter 11

TrollRectangleSo, me and Spindog finally get out of our cells and get to go to the yard cept it’s not a yard anymore.

It’s a fresh air room – four fucking huge concrete walls with no roof. Guess what, they don’t give out umbrellas.

We’re hanging for maybe five minutes and this little guy comes over and starts yakkin at us. Continue reading

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter Ten

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter Ten

TrollRectangleSo we are in Edmonton remand.

Spent one night sitting in a cell at an armpit cop shop after getting busted in that piss ant neighbourhood.

It looked like we were going to get out of it, but then the cops lit up. That bitch that slammed the door on us got out on the street yelling at the cops to bust us just when another cop car pulls up.

When they tell the bitch to go home, she starts yelling at them.

“Just ask them how they can be Tories and Greenpeace supporters at the same time?” Continue reading

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter Eight

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter Eight

TrollRectangle It took a lot, but four days later, I am in Edmonton ready to go. And Spindog’s in the room down the hall.

The Party is paying us to find folks with kids. We sign them up, they get a big fat cheque from Steve. Like Spindog was singing on the plane “Happy voting to you keep smiling until then..”

Meantime, I’ve been at the hotel for a day and I gotta get out. Place is a fucking fishbowl. Continue reading

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter Seven

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter Seven

TrollRectangleToday I spent all fucking day trolling coast to coast with this gigantic push on the big fat cheques they’re mailing out to people who have kids.

Then I went down to pub to hang out with the guys and there’s SpinDog.

More then that, the guys are in this huge uproar about the whopping big carrot Harper delivered to the breeders and SpinDog is egging them on. Continue reading

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter 6

Confessions of a Stephen Harper Troll – Chapter 6

TrollRectangleFinally! My very first Troller. I sent it in over two weeks ago and I just got it back. It’s fully approved as of right now. Here it is:

“You don’t have a clue, do you? Why do I even bother with morons like you? Stephen Harper knows what he’s doing and you sure don’t. Obama saves Iran’s ass – my guy sees it for what it is – nuclear bullshit! My guy can pick out the bad guys at rifle range – that means before they come close, idiot. Continue reading