We are a conservative think-tank based out of Vancouver, British Columbia and we’re currently buying up blogs from around the world in order to disseminate pertinent information about the 2010 Winter Olympics. The previous writer of this blog was writing under a daily change of pseudonyms and identities which many people failed to find amusing. In short, the market rejected the writer so we’re here to pick up the pieces and construct an environment conducive to individual happiness within a free market. The Fraser Institute is here to be number one. 
   So please enjoy the following story which we feel best exemplifies the spirit of free trade, sporting events and solving problems in a hurry.

                                Soaring above Homelessness for 2010

   The lapel mic keeps cutting out into static. This news comes through a high-pitched panicky voice from Jordan’s walkie-talkie. He takes off his gortex gloves and leans into the Mayor. 
    “Excuse me, we’re having some technical difficulties,” Jordan says as he feels for the firmness of the connection between the mic’s chord and the transmitter at the Mayer’s waist. Jordan unzips the Mayer’s jacket and elbows the technician working on the connection between the skis and the firm shell that cradles the Mayor’s frail lower half. 
    “Watch it will you ?” she barks.
    “Gotta get this connection working.”
    “And this connection isn’t important ?” she says looking up at him with a stare colder than the snow around them.
    Snow falls slowly on the backs of everyone else in the scrum surrounding the Mayor in these all important preparations. Hands reach out all around the Mayor whose eyes are slammed firmly shut as he visualizes himself soaring down the ski-hill. In the quietus of his mind, he sees himself flying off the ramp. Silence. Birds don’t need legs, he muses in the quiet core of himself
    In seconds he’ll be seen by billions of people around the world. The triumph of capital will trump the naysayers. The thoughts of the Mayor take on a powerfully husky voice.   
    “It’s now or never,” he says opening his eyes. “Let’s do this.” 
    Various handles protest his call to action but the Mayor insists. The world is watching. The world is waiting. The world will have to go pee in a couple minutes and thus miss this momentous occasion if they delay history any longer.
    “Okay it’s a go,” one of the men surrounding the Mayor says. He wears a black-baseball cap beneath the hood of his jacket. He looks like a Hollywood director. He repeats these words into his walkie-talkie, “It’s a go.”
    The Mayor slides away from the group on his skis and music booms out from both sides of the run, music that seems to melt the snow with its frenzied passion. The Mayor smiles into the cold of the wind as he prepares to open his lips to his lines that will come as he hits the ramp. 
    “I used to have problems until I opened my heart to the wealth of the world. Until I embraced the 2010 Winter Olympics,” the paraplegic Mayor exclaims as his body soars off the ramp and above a manmade hill of hundreds of homeless people bundled up warm against each other’s bodies. From the helicopter shots above their bodies cling together to make the shape of the Canadian flag. They’ve been practicing for this moment for years, for their place in the sun and the snow. 
    “We used to have problems,” they sing in muffled unison but those at the bottom moan more than sing.