Punk Rock Lit 101 - Langside

Brew tried very hard to let this latest outrage roll off his back, but it just wouldn't. He ground his teeth again and clenched the wheel tightly, yet still the comment remained lodged in his brain. Finally, he felt that he had no option but to respond.

"First of all," he said, with contempt dripping from each syllable, "bands are given only a small amount of money to send high school graduates to university, and the amount is nowhere near what they need. Those off reserve are left to struggle with debts and part-time jobs like any other Canadian, except most of them can't get bank loans. Secondly, discrimination and economic manipulation against First Nations people goes back more than two hundred years and is a major cause of poverty. Bullshit myths about tax exemptions and free university educations certainly don't help matters any, either." He glared at a speeding taxi in the next lane before turning back to Dawson. "Honestly, if university was free for them, don't you think there'd be a hell of a lot more aboriginal students? Why can't you check a few facts before you open your mouth and shove your foot in all the way to the knee?" Brew knew that he sounded like some kind of left-wing dufus, and it angered him.

"Whoa, no need to get all in an uproar, buddy," said Dawson, raising his hands in mock surrender the way he always did when Brew called him on his shit. "I was just saying that maybe some of these indians wouldn't be so useless if they got some education. They might be able to get real jobs and get off welfare. Why can't they go to school like I did?" He finished scratching his balls and stared lustfully at a big-breasted woman walking by on the sidewalk.

"I know what you were saying, so don't give me that crap," said Brew, unable to stop himself. "It's a miracle that you managed to graduate, so imagine how difficult it must be for someone with half the opportunities and twice the responsibilities to make it all the way through high school." He spotted a young man trying to hide a bottle of beer and quickly looked away. There weren't enough hours in the day to enforce every minor bylaw. Now if only Dawson could figure that out.

"Whaddya mean?" said his daft and witless partner, with an expression as empty as an election promise. "Why would it be different for them?"

Brew sighed. "Okay, picture this: you're supposed to be at school, but you have to stay home and watch your sister's kids because she is in the hospital after getting beaten up by her boyfriend again. Or you're too tired to go because your mom and dad had a party that kept you up all night. Or perhaps you have no food, busfare, or proper clothing. It's difficult to concentrate on studies if you have to worry about more immediate concerns."

"Huh!" snorted Dawson. "Well, then the lazy bastards shouldn't drink so much!"