A birthday tale for Steven Guilbeault

Dear Mr Guilbeault,

I am celebrating my 65th birthday today and I am the grandfather of two Marvels, it is my gift. But now I got up this morning wondering what gift I’m going to leave my two Wonders for the future, and my heart sank.

This is where you come in, Mr. Guilbeault. You were my MP for several years. I wasn’t embarrassed to run into you, as it happened to me, on rue Laurier in Montreal. Since you became Minister of the Environment, I haven’t had the opportunity since I moved. But if I ran into you, I think I would be embarrassed.

Since you said “yes” to the Bay du Nord oil project, you have lost all credibility in my eyes, as if you had erased with a single word all your action since the founding of Équiterre.

Now, every time you open your mouth, I’m faced with the fact that I can’t count on you anymore. To believe that Mr. Trudeau rubs off on your personality: you say one thing, but you do the opposite.

Just recently, if I believe Radio-Canada radio, you spoke of the desire to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by 40% and, the next day, the To have to told me that your government is considering excluding oil and gas from the GHG caps.

Either Mr. Trudeau makes fun of you and gives you no credibility, or he twists your arm. Either way, you endorse decisions that you know are contrary to what is necessary and urgent for humanity.

I tell myself that your government doesn’t care that my two Wonders risk suffocating in a world that is less and less livable, but to see Europe burning at the moment, I also tell myself that the planet is crying out to you that it is not have more patience. Neither do I.

Pull yourself together, Mr. Guilbeault, or resign.

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