Spare a thought, if you will, for a sad Stephen Harper, last week contemplating his first full year of majority governance. It is almost enough to feel some sympathy for him.

Almost.

It’s been a year and a few days, now, since Harper’s Party — because, let’s be clear, the Conservative Party would not exist and would not be where it is without Harper — celebrated their big victory on May 2, 2011. The Cons vanquished their much-detested enemy, the Liberals, and reduced them to a rump in the House of Commons.

They received a clear mandate to kill the long-gun registry, and the Canadian Wheat Board, too.

They elected MPs in every province, including Ontario, where voters have long spurned the advances of Conservative candidates. And they did all this despite the hearty dislike that Quebec voters, and many media folks, feel for them.

But a year later, and despite the upside, all is not well with the Harper Party.

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Well-written.  Interesting subject-matter.  The author is still a dick.

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OTTAWA — The IP address used to send misleading robocalls to Guelph voters on election day was the same address used by a worker from the campaign office of local Conservative candidate Marty Burke, Elections Canada investigators believe.

The Internet Protocol address — like an Internet phone number — was used by campaign worker Andrew Prescott to arrange legitimate calls through RackNine, the Edmonton voice broadcasting firm.

But the same IP address was also used to arrange the fraudulent “Pierre Poutine” calls that pretended to be from Elections Canada and sent hundreds of electors to the wrong polling stations, Elections Canada alleges in court documents.

RackNine records provided to Elections Canada showed that Prescott’s account had been accessed from a Rogers IP address in Guelph, 99.225.228.34.

 

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No SFH! Last time I’ll ever volunteer for this guy.

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And this tweet about his passing is beyond idiotic.

Dammit, Buddhism. It wasn’t enough that you took Steve Jobs from us?

— Colby Cosh (@colbycosh) May 4, 2012

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The Star scribe at the centre of the latest Ford Family Fiasco has an interesting piece about his run-in with the fist-waving Chief Magistrate.  It’s worth a read.

What struck me is the reporter’s discomfort at being the story, as opposed to writing the story (cf. the very last line). To me, that’s a sign of a good journalist.  (It’s why I wasn’t a good one, by the by: I like Plimptonian, Lester Bang-ish first-person stuff.  I find it more fun to read and write. My web site, now in year 12 – and my journals, now in year 40 – are ample proof of that.)

Anyway, I digress, per usual.  Personally, I wonder if there is an explanation for all of this insanity continually surrounding famille Ford,  one that would almost make me feel sympathetic to the guy (almost).

Why anyone isn’t investigating it is a mystery.  But it’s a reasonable question to ask, based on past behaviour.

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Whenever I listen to the wisdom of this extraordinary man, he reminds me of the Irish. Yes, the Irish.

He’s a moderate. He’s measured. He’s a thinker.

He’s all the things that the ex-pat Irish didn’t used to be. Irish abroad always tried to out-Irish the Irish who lived there. They’d fund extremism and mouth extremist slogans. They’d try and make up for lost time, like converts always do.

Some in the North American Jewish establishment – its leaders, and the ones in Canada in particular – are a bit like that. They try to out-Israel the Israelis. They’re hardcore. Their head lobbyist, whom I deeply detest, has made their lead organization an arm of the Conservative Party, because he thinks that’s smart. It isn’t.

Anyway, I’d listen to Peres. He lives there. You wannabes? You don’t.

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But he’s one I admire a great deal.

Here’s another reason why.

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…but, in all seriousness, the now-infamous Toronto Star vs. Mayor Moron match has fully entered the pantheon of Totally Stupid Things.  My take:

• Reporters who show up with uncharged recording devices should be beaten, although perhaps not by rampaging mayors (roll over and play dead when mayors attack!);
• If a politician ever looks they are going to hit you, let them, as your path to a Pulitzer is thereafter guaranteed, and a huge lawsuit payout too; and
• The Fords have now, irretrievably, turned Canada’s largest city into an episode of The Beverley Hillbillies, with Doug and Rob playing the role of the Clampetts with aplomb and style.

The Right will defend the Fords, the Left will defend the Star.

Both sides look bad.  And, meanwhile, the ostensibly World Class City® continues to drift.

Mel Lastman, come back.  Compared to this guy, you look like Winston Churchill, now.

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…I am profoundly sad at the passing of James Marker.

Hawkins Cheezies are more than the greatest cheesie-type snack. They are the sine qua non of munchies. Out West, as a teenager in Calgary, slurpees and Hawkins Cheezies and, um, nothing illegal whatsoever made up a significant part of our regular nocturnal intake. There was nothing I loved better (and still don’t, ask my kids) than lounging after a punk gig with a Coke slurpee in one hand, and a bag of orangey delightfulness in the other.

I pay tribute to Mr. Marker today, and to all of his staff and his company. They have made my tour on this Earthly coil immeasurably better, and they have brought me to a higher plane of consciousness.

God bless you, Mr. Marker, and God bless Hawkin’s Cheezies.

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