Well now, is everything in order? Rail? Check. Chicken feathers? Check. Tar? Check. Rope? Check.
I am shocked. Shocked! Some transgressions are simply too egregious, too pernicious, too vile to let slide with a simple firing. Some require action, payback, Old Testament frontier justice. If ever there was a case crying out for swift, sure, brutal retribution, surely this is that case.
I mean, the temerity, the absolute turncoat abandonment of loyalty. It's like finding out your head of security is a double agent and has been undermining your best efforts at world domination all while smiling pleasantly at you, enjoying your hospitality and sneaking the occasional lascivious glance at your wife's cleavage.
Conflict of interest my ass. This is treason!
Jayson Faulkner, a person until whom recently I considered an honourable man, a friend, has, it turns out, been secretly plotting the ultimate destruction of Whistler, a town he professed to love, having raised children here, operated a groundbreaking retail business, volunteered countless hours, contributed generously to charitable causes and even went so far as to get himself elected to municipal council. Who knew? He seemed so... so... upright. Why, I've even had conversations with him where he — undoubtedly part of his treasonous ruse — supported actions which seemed contrary to his own self-interest but good for the overall community.
I feel so violated.
It turns out now that all this time Jayson's been working with a secret cabal to destroy the resort by plotting to steal away all of our sightseeing tourists. Caramba! What's that you say? He only recently accepted the job of general manager and partner of the Sea to Sky gondola project in Squamton? You poor deluded rube. That's just part of the illusion. Don't you understand how these clandestine operations work?
Let's look at the facts. Fact: Jayson disposed of his business interests in Whistler. Why? Simple. He knew once he'd hatched his plot there would be no retail future in the deserted, ghost town of a resort that once was the mighty Whistler. He got his money out while the gettin' was good.
Fact: Presenting a well thought out — perhaps too well thought out — platform of financial reform and open government, Jayson duped a large number of Whistleratics into voting him on to council last November. Like a computer virus, he insinuated himself into the belly of the beast, the best place to strike a mortal blow.
Fact: He undoubtedly mesmerized still wet-behind-the-ears mayor, Nancy Wilhelm-Morden, and manoeuvred her into appointing him to the board of Tourism Whistler. My God, the man knows no limits. Having planted the seeds of destruction in the political heart of the town, he was in a perfect position to destroy the very life-giving succor TW provides, marketing efforts without which Whistler would be virtually unknown outside the Lower Mainland.