Ms. Southey objects to my column, below. She thinks I’m a “dick,” etc. for having effrontery to criticize her friend.  Yawn.

She also thinks her tweet below, about Luka Magnotta’s victim Jun Lin, is super-duper funny. She says it’s “black humour.” I don’t quite see it that way, myself. In fact, I find the “dismemberment joke” genre particularly inappropriate the very week (a) the young victim’s family is arriving to collect his remains and (b) more remains are being received by schools in Vancouver. The smart Globe columnist, however, thinks it’s all screamingly funny.

Me, not so much. What do you think?

Oh, for the “context” Tabby feels is essential: here’s her column, wherein she calls it all “horrific” and whatnot. Which is it? “Horrific,” or an occasion for “black humour”? Only Ms. Southey knows, I guess.

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So, there’s this fellow who works at Sun News.

We often share the same page in the paper for our columns. He is quite famous, and I decidedly am not. I don’t ever mention him, and he doesn’t ever mention me.

There are a lot of good reasons for that, but suffice to say that our benign and baby-faced Sun News overlord, Kory Teneycke, was somehow able to obtain a truce between this fellow and I.

For years, it had been the War of the Roses between us — on steroids. The fact that Kory was able to achieve a cessation of hostilities suggests to me that if you ever want somebody to solve the Middle East crisis, Teneycke’s the guy.

Suffice to say this fellow — who I do not, and will not, name — disagrees with me fiercely on just about everything. The reverse is also true. There is nothing we agree on, pretty much.

Except one thing: Stephen Wicary. Stephen Wicary was the online editor for The Globe and Mail for a number of years. He’s a weedy, pompous bore, like not a few folks on Parliament Hill.

Part of his job, apparently, was to attack people on Twitter he didn’t like. This included my friend Norman Spector, and pretty much anybody who has ever had anything to do with Sun News.

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Just at West 49. Buying gear for the kids.

Guy at cash sees my Replacements tee. “Hey, man, that was a great movie,” says he.

“What?” I say, horrified and amazed. Companion says I look like I want to kill. Kid stutters.

“The movie,” he squeaks. “You know, the football movie.”

“No, I don’t,” I hiss. “The Replacements were a band. A fucking great band. Perhaps the greatest band.”

Kid scoots away. Me, to no one in particular:

“I hate everyone.”

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Mulroney: You had an option, sir. You could have said, ‘I am not going to do it. This is wrong for Canada, and I am not going to ask Canadians to pay the price.’ You had an option, sir — to say ‘no’ — and you chose to say ‘yes’ to the old attitudes and the old stories of the Liberal Party. That sir, if I may say respectfully, that is not good enough for Canadians.

Turner: I had no option.

Mulroney: That is an avowal of failure. That is a confession of non-leadership. And this country needs leadership. You had an option, sir. You could have done better.

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If the plane back to TeeDot goes down in a fiery ball of flame this afternoon, here’s a pic you can put up on your fridge door. You’re welcome.

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This is a Rick Bell story. In the Calgary Sun. In Alberta.

Good thing nobody is interested in this Trudeau guy.

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…at Sled Island. Here.

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I wasn’t on Sun News, this week, because I was in Jamaica, where it is less hot than Toronto. While here, I heard from a friend at Sun News, who told me that Jason Kenney was on in my usual Wednesday slot.

When asked about my views on Kenney’s anti-refugee Bill C-31 – which I had characterized, on Krista Erickson’s show the week before, as racist and unconstitutional, and thoroughly evil, too – Kenney said: “Warren Kinsella is wrong, as usual.”

It is a fact that I am often wrong, about many things. On C-31, however, I’m not. It is a perfect illustration of Burke’s maxim, that bad laws are the worst sort of tyranny. It is despicable and a disgrace, and it is the sort of measure that we’d expect from Arizona, not Canada.

But that’s just what I think. Who cares what I think?

Let’s see Kenney tell Elie Wiesel that he’s wrong.

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Words are about information. Pictures are about emotion. Emotion equals power.

Print folks — the ones who pour their souls into writing newspapers and magazines, the ones who craft profound essays for blogs, the ones who toil in government offices and conjure up grand speeches — like to believe that words matter still. But, mostly, they don’t.

The people who put together TV newscasts, as well as the best news photographers, have known this truism for a long time, but they’ve kept mostly quiet about it. Perhaps they don’t want to hurt the feelings of their colleagues, who still vainly cling to the belief that the written word can move hearts and minds.

But the fact remains that for voters, for citizens, words don’t matter nearly as much as pictures do.

Bev Oda, now relegated to the place where much-detested politicians go to get forgotten, learned the truth of this back in February of this year. Back then, the opposition and the media were literally chasing the Ontario Conservative MP for answers in one of the serial scandals in which she became ensnared.

Reuters’ Chris Wattie snapped the shot that would be seen by millions of Canadians: An unsmiling, unattractive Oda wearing shades, hiding out behind the Parliament buildings. Smoking a cigarette.

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Perhaps it’s because I’m in Jamaica and don’t give a rat’s ass, or perhaps it’s because I’m becoming even more of a curmudgeon than before: either way – and from an admittedly great distance – I find this week’s commentary/news to be a ribald mix of stupidity, ridiculousness and/or stupendously boring thumb-sucking.

A sampling:

The Globe and Mail’s august editorial board, on…strippers. That’s what they’re worried about, down on Front Street. Strippers.

It wasn’t even a cabinet shuffle, for Chrissakes! It was the replacement of ONE PERSON. But the Post, and everyone else, endlessly pokes through the entrails to ascertain the cosmic significance of it all. You know, the replacement of ONE PERSON. Please, Lord, kill me now.

…and, finally, the Toronto Star editorializes in favour of lighting up the downtown core at night. On, um, the same night the downtown core was entirely without power. Because, you know, too many people were using power.

And so on, and so on. And newspaper folks wonder why they’re heading the way of the Dodo. Wonder no more, etc.

Oh, and if one more media person tells us to “keep hydrated” we are going to kill them.

End of rant.

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