Category Archives: Humour

Jun 26 2013
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Humour, Municipal Affairs, Politics

Mayors set vastly different examples

 

Sitting while burgermeistering turns the Twitterverse agog, we say

Sitting while burgermeistering turns the Twitterverse agog, we say

It is with a certain chill that one wonders how Toronto Mayor Rob Ford might have handled flood-ravaged Calgary had he been the burgermeister of that fair, if water-logged, city.

Would he have blamed the heavy rains and bursting riverbanks on left-wing conspirators determined to prove that climate change is real? Would he have taken the opportunity to sweep the streets clean of the homeless and disenfranchised, relocating them by means of bus and pick-up truck to the ex-urban hinterland? Would he have headed for the high country to wait out the storm with nary a peep of support for his fellow citizens, the ones he left behind?

However he might have managed the emergency – which is, by no means, over – one suspects his response would not have come close to matching the gold standard set by Calgary’s actual Mayor Naheed Nenshi, whose status as hero seems secure for all time. The Twitterverse loves the guy, and for good reason.

No finer example of leadership in action currently exists at any level of government, anywhere in Canada. Mr. Nenshi’s instincts have been razor sharp: He’s been selfless, cogent, organized and, perhaps most importantly, available.

His advice to his community has fairly flowed with common sense.

On national television he said, “We live in this urban, cutting edge city but like everyone else we live in nature; we live in this world. I am very familiar with this river (the Bow). It is part of my heartbeat the way it is a part of the heartbeat of every Calgarian, and no Calgarian has ever seen it this high and this fast. . .We can fix stuff, we can replace stuff; we can’t fix people.”

In one of his innumerable public updates, he declared, “I can’t believe I actually have to say this, but I’m going to say it: The river is closed. You cannot boat on the river. I have a large number of nouns that I could use to describe the people I saw in a canoe on the Bow River today. . .I am not allowed to use any of them.”

CBC News reports his Twitter feed as a litany of useful minutia:

“Latest update: water cresting, lots and soon. Stay away from riverbanks, stay tuned for further instruction.”

“Getting a first-hand look across the city. I’ve never seen levels this high and fast. Worst is yet to come.”

“And with that, a day that started 43 hours ago comes to a close. It included one plane, two helicopters and 3:45 am and 8:30 pm press briefings.”

“Did you lose precious family photos? Local photog @gabemcclintock offers to help make new memories.”

“Donate your grad dresses to young women in High River who lost theirs.”

“South line C-train service to downtown will be a while yet. We still recommend staying away from downtown if you at all can.”

“Big news: C-train service back in downtown tomorrow! Blue line back except city hall and centre street, NW line to 8th street.”

It’s often true that adversity brings out the best in people. But not always. Consider the sorry example Mr. Ford now sets in Hog Town, where his administration sits under a cloud laden with controversies, both minor and distinctively otherwise.

Did he or did he not smoke crack with known drug dealers? He refuses to sufficiently clarify the alleged circumstances as police continue to probe the matter. Meanwhile, his reputation stinks like burnt toast.

“Uh oh,” begins the blurb for a new Android gaming app called Stay Mayor.  “Looks like the Mayor’s in a buttload of friggin’ trouble with that alleged video of him smoking crack! And who knows if it even exists, amiright? But juuust in case, why don’t you help him collect a heap of cash to buy it before The Gawker does. Only your twinkle toes can out-maneuver the Blood Thirsty Media to help him collect more than they did in that damn ‘Crackstarter’ campaign. $201,255 to be exact. And hey, everyone needs a little boost now and then, so make sure you collect power up buckets of deep-fried courage for more footballs to throw at life’s problems. . .but make sure you avoid those pesky crackpipes!”

If all mayors are equal, then, some are more equal than others.

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Jun 26 2013
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Humour, Politics, Society

Serious sun-silliness in the summertime

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The first day of summer is always a revelation. It is the day on which, in most parts of Canada (even the formerly frozen north), we may put away our winter bomber jackets and know that, in so doing, we will not be sorry. For this reason, alone, it is the day on which the news of the world is more likely to provoke chuckles than outrage.

The U.S. economy now turns a corner – its long, dark night being over – and begins to generate jobs and growth. The unemployment rate, we are told, will probably fall to under 6.5 per cent for the first time in seven years. Gross domestic product will rise to more than three per cent a year. Thousands will build houses. Thousands more will buy them. Naturally, then, the value of the average American’s retirement portfolio won’t be worth a plug nickel.

“Markets tank as end of easy money looms,” blares the headline in the Report on Business. “The upheaval began with Federal Reserve chairman Ben Bernake’s observations. . .that prospects are looking up for the U.S. economy,” the story strives to explain. “Paradoxically, his forecast of better times was greeted with considerable dread among investors, coming with a likely timeline for pulling back on stimulus measures.”

My naturalized American of a brother has the right idea. In California, he plows his hard-earned dough straight into his Hollywood condo – all the better for properly hosting family and friends. Canada’s Foreign Affairs Minister John Baird should be so lucky to meet his acquaintance.

According to the Globe and Mail, our nation’s chief diplomat is currently “defending his New Year’s holidays at Canadian official residences abroad, arguing they were a favour from friends, rather than a perk. . .The opposition said Mr. Baird was freeloading from the public – but Mr. Baird’s office says the minister was only taking favours from friends, and it ‘did not cost taxpayers a dime.’”

Neither, apparently, did it cost Mr. Baird a dime, which is kind of the point of NDP foreign affairs critic Paul Dewar’s rebuke: “It smacks of entitlement. . . abusing his relationship with the high commissioner to get a freebie. . .For him to have his vacation at an official residence of the government of Canada without paying one red cent is entirely inappropriate, and to bring along six of your friends complicates matters more.”

We wonder whether they made their own beds, or did residence staff “do them a Duffy”. Allegedly, the less-than-venerable senator from Prince Edward Island hasn’t made his own bed in years, though shortly he may be required to lie in it. Or so the Globe reports: “The RCMP is investigating Senator Mike Duffy for possible breach of trust in connection with payments he received during the 2011 federal election.

“Court documents show that the probe into Mr. Duffy’s affairs is being conducted by the ‘sensitive and international investigations’ detachment and focuses on whether a breach of trust occurred. It was revealed last week that the RCMP were investigating the Senate expenses affair, including a cheque from Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s former top aide, Nigel Wright, to Mr. Duffy.”

Some people have money; some do not. Take federal Liberal Leader Justin Trudeau. He had a good thing going for awhile, charging charitable organizations a pretty penny to flash his pearly whites at their fundraisers. Then came Saint John’s Grace Foundation, which asked the good fellow to return the $20,000 they paid him last year to say a few words on behalf of old folks’ homes. Party poopers! Apparently, that sort of thing just isn’t done in those circles.

Still, according to a CBC report, “Trudeau, who was an MP at the time of the fundraiser, has offered to compensate charities that paid him to speak at events. He stopped accepting paid speaking engagements last year when he decided to run for the leadership of the Liberal Party.”

Ah yes, as Sly and the Family Stone once observed, it really is “hot fun in the summertime”, even here in the Great White North.

Jun 11 2013
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Humour, Politics, Security

Spying minds really want to know

Is what lies beneath enough?

Who’s got the dirt on you?

Good morning, pipsqueak. This is your big brother calling. How are you doing? Feeling good and rested, ready to take on the world? Sure you are. You’re going to seize the day, follow your bliss, as they say – just as soon as you gulp down that happy pill your doctor prescribed for you last month.

You know what I’m talking about, don’t you junior? Remember that afternoon three weeks ago, when the paramedics had to scrape you off the pavement outside the grocery store, following your 19th nervous breakdown?

Didn’t think I’d find out about that, did you? Never mind. I know a lot of things about you and just about everybody else in this ridiculous country of fools and sleepwalkers who believe that just because I scrapped the long-form census, I give a fig about your personal privacy. What a joke, which is, at it happens, entirely on you.

How’s that new car working out for you? You know. . .the one you bought with four credit cards because your wife wouldn’t let you raid the kids’ college fund. I bet she was mighty cheesed off when you rolled up in that baby. In fact, I know she was because that’s what she told some guy named Hank, with whom she’s having an online relationship. Oops, have I said too much? Listen, pal, a word to the wise. . .what’s good for the gander is good for the goose. Just saying, is all.

Speaking of birds of a feather, you know that chum three cubicles over from you at work? He’s the one with whom you’ve been collaborating for months on that big presentation to your company’s brass. Don’t trust him. He’s planning to stab you in the back, take credit for your ideas and sell you down the river as a lazy no-nothing. Fact is, all he does all day is play computer solitaire when he’s not following Lindsay Lohan on Twitter. Hope that’s useful to you. Your welcome.

Truth is, I care about you bro’. I care about the fact that you lied on your resume where you claimed to have a degree from the University of Toronto whereas you actually have a diploma from the Community College of Tofino. I care about the fact that you list your hobbies as golf, marathon running and skydiving instead of tap dancing, gardening and ventriloquism. You really should be more circumspect.

Not that I plan to do anything with such information. In the scheme of things, you’re just not that interesting, let alone important. I’ve got enough work scrutinizing the “metadata” stemming from the Internet comings and goings and phone calls of millions of other citizens through the Communications Security Establishment Canada. Technically, I’m not “allowed” to listen in on actual conversations or surveil specific emails and text messages. But, well. . .you know. There are a lot of ways to skin a cat.

As my buddy Ronald Deibert might say: “Don’t kid yourself.” In fact, the U of T political science professor and expert on global security did sort of say that in a commentary he penned for the Globe and Mail on Tuesday, to wit: “What is metadata? Take my mobile phone. Even when I’m not using it, when it’s just sitting in my pocket or on my desk, it emits an electronic pulse every few seconds to the nearest wifi router or cellphone tower that includes a kind of digital biometric tag.”

So what, you might say. So, don’t be so stupid. Or, as Mr. Deibert notes, “Think metadata is trivial compared to content? Think again. MIT researchers who studied 15 months of anonymized cellphone metadata of 1.5 million people found four ‘data points’ were all they needed to figure out a person’s identity 95 per cent of the time. In 2010, German Green Party politician Malte Spitz and Germany’s Die Zeit newspaper requested all of the metadata from Mr. Spitz’s phone carrier, Deutsch Telekom. The company sent back a CD containing 35,830 lines of code.”

Anyway, goofball, try to take better care of yourself this summer. I notice you’ve been hitting Amazon.com of late for some reading material. Might I suggest you start with Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451” and end with George Orwell’s “Nineteen Eighty-Four”. Either or both are excellent field guides for the shape of things to come.

That’s it for now.

We’ll talk again soon.

That’s a promise, pipsqueak.

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May 29 2013
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Humour, Politics

Foaming at the mouth over lickspittles

Poor Ms. Maj. Her eyes are shut wide open

Poor Ms. Maj. Her eyes are shut wide open

It is rare that a member of the Senate of Canada affords so exquisite an opportunity to drink deeply the rich elixir that is the English language. So let us compliment Marjory LeBreton, the federal Government’s chief representative in the Upper Chamber, for her recent, and truly marvelous, display of verbal pyrotechnics.

To be perfectly clear, here’s exactly what she said in a speech last week: “We moved at the first opportunity to make the Senate more open, accountable and transparent. It was determined from September 2010 onward, Senators expenses would be publicly reported on a quarterly basis. Had that not taken place – no one would have been any the wiser. Things would have carried on in the old Liberal way –nudge, nudge, wink, wink!”

Indeed, she said, “The reality. . .is that we are facing this crisis because we flung open the door and revealed what was going on and now rather than being credited for doing so, we are paying the price for taking this important and necessary step.”

Alas, she added, “I am not surprised. I am a Conservative and I know more than most that around this town, populated by Liberal elites and their media lickspittles, tut-tutting about our government and yearning for the good old days, that we are never given the benefit of doubt and are rarely given credit for all the good work that we do.”

Lickspittle. What a most excellent word; a true mouthful of antiquated bile and embalmed moral authority.

“A useful functionary, not infrequently found editing a newspaper,” is how the 19th century American writer Ambroise Bierce defined the “lickspittle” in his masterwork of humour, The Devil’s Dictionary. Such a cad, he wrote, “is closely allied to the blackmailer by the tie of occasional identity; for in truth the lickspittle is only the blackmailer under another aspect, although the latter is frequently found as an independent species. Lickspittling is more detestable than blackmailing, precisely as the business of a confidence man is more detestable than that of a highway robber; and the parallel maintains itself throughout, for whereas few robbers will cheat, every sneak will plunder if he dare.”

Modern definitions, found in online dictionaries, include, “a fawning underling; a toady; a flattering or servile person” and “a contemptible person.”

Lickspittle’s closest synonym is, perhaps, “sycophant” from the Latin “sycophanta”. According to a Wiktionary entry it denotes “one who uses compliments  to gain self-serving favor or advantage from another; one who seeks to gain through the powerful and influential.” A lickspittle, therefore, is also an “ass-kisser, brown-noser, suck-up, yes man, parasite, flunky” or “lackey.”

Sadly, this detestable creature can be found in nearly all walks of life, doing the  loathsome bidding of their profane superiors in every country of the world. During the Nixon, Reagan, Clinton and George W. Bush administrations, you could have papered the walls of the Oval Office with them. These days, you can observe them at the IRS, targeting conservative groups seeking tax exemptions.

And while Ms. LeBreton may be justified in vilifying the “media lickspittles” in her midst, sometimes it works the other way around.

“The president and chief executive officer of The Associated Press. . .called the government’s secret seizure of two months of reporters’ phone records unconstitutional,” The Washington Times reported earlier this month. Gary Pruitt. . .said the move already has had a chilling effect on journalism. (He) told CBS’ ‘Face the Nation’ that the government has no business monitoring the AP’s newsgathering activities. ‘If they restrict that apparatus. . .the people of the United States will only know what the government wants them to know, and that’s not what the framers of the Constitution had in mind when they wrote the First Amendment,’ he said.”

In fact, about the only institution, public or private, that remains utterly devoid of lickspittles is a certain branch of the Canadian Parliament, where 105 unelected members, appointed by the Governor General on the “advice” of the prime minister exercise only the soundest judgement, free of influence, in the lofty interest of the citizens they represent.

Isn’t that true, Ms. LeBreton? What, pray tell, is your word for them?

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May 17 2013
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Humour, Politics

Hey buddy, can you spare a dime?

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Dear Nigel:

It’s been some time since last we chatted, and it occurs to me that I never did thank you for your gift of last Christmas, which was both timely and deeply appreciated. As we are both men of a certain social standing and responsibility, we understand how the pressures of high office can occasionally undermine our material means. It is grand to know that one can count on one’s friends when circumstances prevail overly on one’s pocket book. Great Aunt Mabel’s sudden demise (the unfortunate result of one too many rum toddies during Hogmanay) was a devastating blow to all of us. Your generous offer to cover the costs of her interment was a great relief. Again, we thank you!

On another matter entirely, you’ll be pleased to know that the renovations to our summer residence in Castle, New Brunswick, are proceeding nicely. The wife, Minnie, and I are enormously proud of the 1,500 square feet of new, outdoor living space, which replaces the old baby barn and outhouse. We can’t decide what we like most about it: the uniflame, gas firebowl with teak surrounds or the Buddha-themed, granite water feature. Minnie simply can’t tear herself away from the Rattan sofa chair.(It’s mildew-resistant, don’t you know). In any case, thanks to your thoughtful munificence, we’ve managed to steer clear of the bank. What a relief! Arguing loan terms can be such a bore.

Oh, before I forget, I should mention that our girl Tabitha is having a marvelous time on her European grand tour, visiting all of the Old World capitals. Meanwhile, young Chad is learning how to parasail (his fondest dream) during his sojourn at the reef islands of Vanuatu. Needless to say, they are most grateful for their “Uncle” Nigel’s support and they send their love.

Now, down to business. . .I may have mentioned to you my desire to write a book. For years, I have been deeply concerned about the state of the Maritime economy and the increasing gulf between the haves and the have-nots. When I travel around this region – the times I manage to extricate myself from my heavy workload in Ottawa – I am shocked by the lack of opportunity here. Recently, somebody (I can’t remember who) told me that the population is aging and that more and more people are actually leaving to get work elsewhere. Did you know that?

Well, that’s certainly a wake-up call and I think something should be done about it. Specifically, I think I should do something about it. After all, I am a member of this great country’s upper chamber. What’s more, I am a journalist by training and a story teller by temperament. (I once gave a speech, scheduled for half-an-hour, that ran on for 75 minutes; by the end, the audience could not recommend me too highly).

Nigel, here’s what I’m proposing. . .I will roll up my sleeves and get down to the nitty gritty of what makes this region tick. Why do some people seem to have it all and why do some. . .well, don’t? Why is there so much unfairness out there? Who’s to blame? What’s the solution?

I’ve considered throwing my support behind Maritime Union, but for the life of me I can’t figure out where the capital city should go. So, maybe that’s a non-starter. At the very least, however, I can leverage the not unappreciable respect my station in life affords me to get the urgent conversation going. I even have a working title: “A Tough Love Letter from Fat City.” Catchy – don’t you think?

At any rate, such a project will take time and, of course, money – about $90,000, in fact. And that, dear friend, brings me to you. I know you won’t let me down. After all, men like us. . .well, we’ve got to stick together.

Your enduring chum,

Senator Alejandro Brucellosis, Esq.

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