Our white flag is up.
It’s not because you have a better mega-concert venue, unsullied by shady, side-room shenanigans. It’s that you know who you are. Halifax hasn’t a clue.
Halifax’s crise d’identite isn’t new. It didn’t spring into being Tuesday when news erupted that $400,000 had been greased into the palm of promoter Harold MacKay, and that every man, woman and child in the city is on the hook for almost a buck for propping him up.