Spring is unsprung and the hills are alive with January in April. We're mired in a funeral-procession of a federal election that reminds me uncomfortably of the film Eraserhead - will this nightmare never end. The season of our discontent is drawing to a close in much the same way an old-timey, battery operated tape recorder runs d-o-w-nnnn....
And adding insult to injury, we're hung with another inspiring(sic) leaders'(sic) debate. Perhaps our Francobrothers in Quebec have it right; we'd all rather watch a largely meaningless hockey game than another entirely meaningless snoozefest episode of Dodge the Question.
There they were, the 3.2 leaders, doing exactly what we knew they'd do. Iggy Pop managed to turn every answer into a dissection of Harpo's truthiness and commitment to the principles of democracy. Earth to Iggy: we know he lies like a two-dollar hooker and would happily prorogue Parliament permanently if only he had the majority necessary to keep his government from falling on the flimsiest confidence vote. Iggy was all about truth... not his own.
Meanwhile, Monsieur La Tête de Fromage did not miss an opportunity to turn each question and accusation into a mournful dirge about what a raw deal Quebec continues to get under every government, seeming only momentarily nonplussed when confronted with the province's own brand of intolerance towards l'autre.
Diamond Jack, looking like the makeup person used a bucket of spray tan on him in an attempt to exude a warm glow of health, was most entertaining... at least when he wasn't torturing every answer and attack to somehow fit inside the NDP's Family box. Kudos for the evening's best line when, in swiping at Pudge's lawn-order initiatives, he quipped, "I don't know why we need so many more prisons when the crooks seem so happy in the Senate." Go Jack, go; that one left a mark.
And then there was Pudge himself. Quite possibly so filled with Botox he was incapable of actual human expression, he seemed to largely borrow a page from Petronius in answering(sic) questions and barbs hurled his way. Mundus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur . For those of you not wanting to Google it, the words mean, "The world wants to be deceived, so let it be deceived." Since Conrad Black stopped using the phrase - the other prisoners would beat the snot out of him whenever he slipped into Latin - Pudge seems to have made it the unofficial slogan of the Conservative party. For him, everything was the fault of the Coalition.
With national politics such a dreary sideshow, I've redoubled my own momentum with the Campagne de Fous and for your entertainment, would like to present the third plank in my platform. I call this one Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire, or Cheaters Shouldn't Prosper. Next week I may call it something else, that's how openminded I am.