Dipsticks

Happy Canada Day.

Had so much fun at WGAF that I stuck around for awhile. 

So much to process.

Dominique Strauss-Kahn, reeking 0f DNA: "But, officeur, ah wahs merely trah-ing to give ze maid, 'ow you say, ze tip." 

Osama, we now know, had bin Wankin all this time to some primo porn. He just wanted to blow us all up with his torpedo of love, like Domi-nookie. Or Charlie Sheen. Or Newt Gingrich. Or Ah-nuld, the Sperminator. Or Mel Gibson. Or John Edwards or John Ensign or David "Depends" Vitter, he of the diaper fetish. Or Mark Sanford, who rode his bone down the Appalachian Trail and out of office. Or the king of them, the Most Aptly Named Person in History, Anthony Weiner, who never put his wiener to actual use, preferring to use it as a prop.

Penises sure are funny, blowing up in people's faces and all.

Sarah Palin, continuing her political cock-tease with the media who follow her around as if she was a Serious Person Who Will Run for President, says, à propos of doing just that, that she has "the fire in my belly." I have just sent her a note to reassure her that she won't burn in hell if she decides not to bring this one to term. Maybe hubby Todd can quench that fire with his own torpedo, maybe grow themselves another Palin. Baby name? Schmuck. 

Palin is headed to Britain soon, according to reports, and she made all kinds of noise about wanting to have a get-together and a cuppa with Maggie Thatcher, the Iron Maiden herself, or, as I like to think of her, Mrs. "Very-very-adjective-indeed". To her everlasting credit, The Thatchrix sent word through her fart-catchers that Palin "is nuts" and should sod off. This will knock a few years off Mrs T's sentence in Purgatory, when the time comes. 

The recent election was a bit of a shocker, revealing the sea change beginning to take place in Quebec around the "national question." The nuking of the Bloc and the  rending of the PQ in its wake throw Quebec back into play for federal parties. Layton was the main beneficiary this time, but the NDP is not institutionally grounded in Quebec the way the Liberals are. Some sort of understanding between these two parties would deliver the lion's share of the seats to a progressive party. Don't hold your breath.

However, even when everything seems dull and grey, there is always Conrad, Lord Black of Crossdresser, who thought he could get up in front of judge Amy St. Eve and impress her by reciting Kipling's "If" in its entirety: ("If You Can Keep Your John Thomas in Your Trousers While All About You Are Using Theirs, My Son"…). Apparently, the rumour that Her Honor scrunched her nose, sniffed, and complained "it smells of Biggles in here!" cannot be confirmed. Bottom line: another year in the slammer for Canada's own Churchill.

The least we can do in this time of travail is lower the poor man's taxes.

Stockaholics everywhere in panic after supply cut off

Japan reels in the face of a near-apocalyptic earthquake and tsunami, followed quickly upon by nuclear meltdown and mass evacuation.

And Stockwell Day decides to shuffle off the political stage. (No word on whether noted self-proclaimed Stockaholic Ezra Levant has been put on suicide watch.)

What does Day know that we don’t? 

The conventional wisdom is that this “clears the decks for the Tories” as they prepare for the election that is surely coming this way soon, as predicted in these pages last year.

It has been a while since his clownish and gaffe-ridden performance in the 2000 election and afterward as leader of the Canadian Alliance (basically the Reform Party in lipstick), which saw his own party splinter in Parliament, followed by his subsequent turfing in favour of Stephen “L’état, c’est moi” Harper. Since losing reins, he has pursued a much more low key profile, eventually earning a reputation in the Harper cabinet for being not a total disaster. In fact, he is considered a senior statesman. Draw from the latter statement what conclusion you will.

Day’s lowered profile was, to a considerable degree, a function of the short leash Harper put on all his ministers, who are drawn from a less than overflowing talent pool. Whatever he felt about this Day kept to himself, and so can be credited in the end with being a good Tory soldier.

The stars all argue for the wisdom of the move. Day has been in government railing about government for 25 years. He has seen what life in Harperland is like. The horizon offers only more of the same, more Stockboy than Stockwell; it certainly doesn’t offer another shot at being PM. Elections are coming every 30 months now. It’s as good a time as any. Time to kick back and start collecting that sweet government pension.