by Rick Mercer
When it comes to issues that Canadians care about—the economy, Afghanistan, heath care, medical isotopes—there is a campaign of misinformation that qualifies as pathological. When asked the philosophy behind our Prime Minister’s communication strategy, Mr. Harper’s former campaign manager, Tom Flanagan, summed it up with the phrase: “It doesn’t have to be true; it just has to be plausible.”
Parents of Canada, make sure you impart that little nugget to your kids before they head out to school on Monday.
Voting Conservative is not a problem for a majority of Canadians; we’ve done it before. Voting for an angry guy who thinks we’re stupid and will believe anything? That takes some getting used to.
Voting Liberal is certainly not a problem for a majority of Canadians, either. In fact, the federal Liberals got so used to the notion that Canadians would dutifully elect them, they forgot that any other scenario was possible. For Liberals victory was just something that happened 40-odd days after an election was called; much in the same way the rest of us are fairly confident that the sun will rise tomorrow.
The Liberals should have a bit of an advantage this time around. Having been beaten badly in the last election, they quickly took Stéphane Dion out behind the barn and he hasn’t been seen since. Immediately afterward, there was a puff of white smoke and the Liberal party suddenly had a brand new leader in Michael Ignatieff. He is by all accounts highly qualified, having dazzled many people at dinner parties for decades.
Michael Ignatieff is, as we speak, surrounded by a brigade of young people in pointy shoes and designer glasses who work for him, worship him and Twitter about him. Why should we vote for him? I’ve read the tweets; I’ve yet to see an answer.
Those of us who view politics in part as a blood sport believe that in the last election, Stéphane Dion made the classic error of bringing a knife to a gunfight. At least he showed up. So far, Ignatieff is hiding in the woods. Literally.
In the TV ads launched to counterpunch the Tories, we are treated to the image of Michael Ignatieff, alone among the trees, free associating. His message, if I remember it correctly, is about the importance of ensuring that tomorrow’s green jobs of today fuel yesterday’s growth now. I think he might mention China, too.
If that’s the best he can do, his next trip to the woods is going to involve a shovel and a bag of lime.
And then there’s Jack Layton. NDP leader Jack Layton closes out his party’s national convention with a keynote speech on Sunday, August 17.
Canadians have never come close to electing a New Democrat government federally, and yet Jack dreams. This is fine, as dreams are important.
The problem with Jack is, we all saw how excited he got when he actually thought that he was going to be a part of a coalition government. It wasn’t a normal excitement; it was the kind of excitement that scares other passengers on a plane.
I don’t know if this is what has turned off my friend on the Lunenburg wharf, but it’s a definite possibility. Ours wasn’t a long conversation, which is surprising. Normally, when confronted with someone who justifies not voting, I have an entire arsenal at my disposal.
I’m a guy who has advocated mandatory voting. I have always believed in my heart of hearts we would be a far better country if everyone were obligated to take twenty minutes out of their life on Election Day to mark an X.
That said, I can’t help but feel great sympathy for someone who just happens to be standing on a wharf contemplating the fact that it’s hard to imagine voting for someone when you can’t even wrap your head around throwing them a rope.
COME OUT SWINGING, PLEASE
September 29, 2009
I’m a little disappointed that there’s no election. Not because I think there should be an election; I just like watching them as a blood sport. And like all fight fans, I always hope that the next fight is going to be better than the last.
Let’s face it: the last election was over about thirty seconds into the first round. It was Harper’s right from the start.
If the Inuit have a hundred different words to describe snow, there are at least twice as many words to describe Stephen Harper’s various levels of angry. If he doesn’t like you, he’s going hurt you. And if you trust the polls, about 35 percent of Canadians like it rough. So maybe the guy’s onto something.
The Liberals went out and got themselves Michael Ignatieff, which was very exciting for about five minutes. Since then, basically, he’s been hiding in the woods—or at least that’s what his TV ads seem to indicate. He’s out there now, as we speak, rambling around, free associating, talking about how tomorrow’s green jobs of today must fuel yesterday’s growth now. This guy can’t fight; he can barely make a fist. Michael. Smarten up. You’re about to go into the ring with Mike Tyson. He’s going to bite you.
And as for Jack Layton, it’s not like he doesn’t know how to fight. Jack’s problem is the minute things start looking good, like when he thought that he was actually going to be part of a coalition, he gets all excited, and not excited in a good way, either.
So really, from a spectator’s point of view, maybe it’s a good thing we’re not going to the polls. If for no other reason than that I want them all to refocus and, when the bell rings, to come out swinging. Because after all, if we’re going to pay $350 million to watch this go down, let’s make it a good show.
A private tour of Rideau Hall with Governor General David Johnston.
Rick: “You are the Queen’s representative on earth here in Canada.”
GG: “That is correct.”
Rick: “So you are she.”
GG: “Well, in a sense …”
Rick: “I should straighten up. God sakes here, I’m talking to the Queen.”
GG: “You’re straight enough, thank you very much.”
Rick: “Well, okay …”
VEGETABLES AND PRIMATES
October 6, 2009
So, big goings on in the House of Commons this past week. The Liberals tabled a straightforward non-confidence motion. If it had passed the entire minority government would have collapsed. Now this may not seem like a big deal but it is. It’s only happened twice since Confederation. So I can’t help but think that some time in the future—I mean, hundreds of years from now—some academic will study the official record of what was said and done in the House of Commons this week and come to the conclusion that in October 2009, Canada was governed by monkeys.
Starting with the Liberals. It was their motion. It was their job to get up in the House and explain why this government should fall. So up pops Michael Ignatieff. And to be fair, for the first time ever, he laid out what he would do differently if he were prime minister. Fascinating stuff. Problem is, he never really got around to the “Why the government should fail” part, which is the only reason we were watching in the first place.
And then it was the government’s turn to respond. For this, they chose that great parliamentarian John Baird. And did John Baird get up and say why they should survive? No. Instead, John Baird stood up in the House of Commons and accused Michael Ignatieff, in front of all of Canada, of owning a condominium in Toronto, that—wait for it—has a balcony. So if you’re one of the two million Canadians who live in a condo with a balcony, be warned: John Baird and the Conservative Party do not condone your lifestyle.
And then there was the NDP, who did not act like monkeys. To say so would be insulting to monkeys. Because when it came time to vote, Jack Layton and the NDP, who held the balance of power, did nothing. They abstained. If the entire NDP caucus had been replaced with thirty-six turnips, the results would have been exactly the same. And so, at the end of the day, the government survived. The vegetables and the primates, they lived to serve yet another day.
And for anyone who happened to tune in for the action, cheer up. Because, really, after a week like this, there’s nowhere to go but up.
HOW COULD HE HAVE KNOWN?
October 13, 2009
There was really onl
y one story in Ottawa last week. The champagne corks that were popping out of the Prime Minister’s Office could be seen from outer space. Stephen Harper has hit the magic 40-percent approval rating, which means a majority government is now within his grasp.
What I find astounding is that the Tories attribute this success not to his piano playing but to his economic record. This is confusing to me because it implies that somewhere it’s been recorded that he’s doing a good job. I mean, let’s not forget, this is the same prime minister who, twelve months ago, told us we could never go into a deficit because there could be no recession as long as he was in charge.
Now, of course, hindsight is 20/20. Which is why, if you ask Tories about what Harper said, they all say the same thing. They say, “Ah … well … please … How could he have known we were in a recession?” Well, he could have read a newspaper, or asked my mother, or spoken to a cab driver, but I guess, barring that, they’re right. He just didn’t see it coming. So instead, we went from zero to the largest deficit in Canadian history. Sixty billion dollars in one year alone.
The good news is that the same guy who said we could never go into a deficit now says we will pay off that $60 billion without raising taxes or cutting spending.
Imagine for a moment your fiancé comes home and tells you that when you weren’t looking, he or she dropped 150 grand that you don’t have at the casino. Now imagine that the same fiancé says, “Don’t worry. We’ll pay it back without making a single change to our lifestyle … I stand on my financial record.” I think, piano playing or not, we’d all start looking at other options.
Now, don’t get me wrong—just to be clear to my Tory friends, I am not saying that I believe Michael Ignatieff is better suited to manage this economy. I’m saying that, based on the past twelve months, Porky Pig is better suited to manage this economy.
As it stands right now, this country has a $60 billion wake-up call coming, and for the record, not a single leader has come even close to being honest.
Carriage racing at the High Country Carriage Driving Club, Calgary.
Rick: “This is your team outfit? And I know I should look like an athlete, but I feel like I should be selling stolen electronics out of the trunk of a car.”
FLU CONFUSION
October 20, 2009
I cannot begin to tell you how confused I am about the swine flu. Every day brings different reports, conflicting advice. All I know is, at this point, I swear to God I’m 80 percent hand sanitizer. Whenever I run into one of those Purell pumps, I ride that lever like I’m a senior citizen at Casino Rama. I go to a bar, I order Purell and Coke. Does it help? I have no idea. But I do know that the minute you’re all cleaned up and disinfected, you get in the elevator and some dude comes along and coughs on your neck. And that can’t be good.
So, if you’re like me, you probably have some questions. You, too, might have been tempted to go onto the Health Canada website to see what they’re saying about the swine flu. If you haven’t yet gone to that website, my advice to you is: don’t. Unless, of course, you’re doing research on how to bore, panic and confuse people all at the same time.
The first thing you have to know about the federal government’s swine flu website: they spelled coughs wrong. Six million dollars they spent; they don’t have spell check. They also say everyone, without exception, should get the swine flu vaccine. Then they say, “Don’t worry, we currently have a million vaccines stockpiled.” That’s great, except for the fact that there are thirty-five million Canadians. Unless we’re looking for the miracle of the loaves and fishes here, this means I have to strangle thirty-four people on the way to my clinic.
Although, who am I kidding? I live in a riding represented by the NDP. I ain’t seeing no vaccine. Meanwhile, if you live in Jim Flaherty’s riding, you get three vaccines plus a giant novelty cheque for five grand.
Some people may say that I’m being cynical. I’m not. I’m being practical. While the federal government is busy spreading confusion, it’s our job to spread nothing. All we can do is wash our hands, cough into our sleeves, and for God’s sake, stay off the Internet.
THE SHOVELS ARE OUT
October 27, 2009
It seems like only yesterday the federal government was rolling out its economic stimulus program. And now, ten months later, the shovels are at work, but they’re not shovelling dirt. Conservative ridings are getting way more money than anyone else. And when asked about this, the Prime Minister simply shrugs and says, with all the conviction in the world, “It’s just not true.” He’s like one of those people who, when confronted with all the evidence to the contrary, will insist that the earth is flat or that John Baird is funny.
Not all the Tories are so good. My favourite is Tony Clement. For the last ten months, Tony’s been driving around his riding, wearing a giant gold hat and throwing our money out the window. And I love when he has to stand up and defend himself in the House of Commons because—and Tony should take this as a compliment—he’s a terrible liar. Every time he answers a question, he looks like a ten-year-old who just got caught stealing change out of Mom’s purse.
I’m not saying this is anything new. This was invented by Sir John A. Macdonald. It was practised by Lester Pearson. It was polished by Brian Mulroney. It was perfected by Jean Chrétien. But Stephen Harper has turned it into an art form. He is the Yo-Yo Ma of pork-barrel politics.
And it’s not just about pavement with this guy, either. Consider this: as part of the stimulus funding there’s a $45 million “accessibility” fund. This is money for disabled people. Ninety-two percent of that money has gone to Conservative ridings.
Boy, when he promised a transparent government, he wasn’t kidding. He’s downright see-through.
Yes, the emperor has no clothes, but he does have wheelchair ramps, and if you didn’t vote right, you don’t get one.
DON’T PANIC
November 3, 2009
Well, there’s no doubt about it. At this point in time, it’s clear: this country is under attack by a highly contagious virus. And I’m not talking about the swine flu here—we’ve got a vaccine for that. I’m talking about good, old-fashioned fear. I’ve never seen anything like it. This past week, we had thousands of people lining up outside a clinic for five hours when they were told there was no vaccine inside. Do you know who lines up for five hours in the cold? Thirteen-year-olds looking for Jonas Brothers tickets. Rational adults do not do that. And it’s not even our fault. Canadians are terrified. And in times of crisis, we get our information from the media and the government. Which is ironic, because we don’t trust either one of them. And look at the media. Last week, every time you turned on the news, the anchor was saying, “Oh my God, there’s an outbreak at a Toronto hospital. Outbreak, outbreak outbreak!” And then they happen to mention, “Oh, by the way, ‘outbreak’ is a technical term. It means three people have the flu.”
No, no, no, no. We know what “outbreak” is. It’s a Dustin Hoffman movie about a monkey that bites a dude and then his head explodes. In fact, it’s two and half hours of a guy’s head exploding. So the media’s not really helping us out on the whole panic front.
And then there’s the government. Sure, it would be nice if the government stepped up to the plate, but to be fair, they are very busy coming up with advertisements telling us what a great job they’re doing with the whole shovels-in–the-ground thing. Apparently, you can only advertise so many things at once. So it looks like we’re on our own. But that’s okay, because Canadians can beat this thing. All we have to do is put our minds to it. Because unlike the flu, panic is all in our head.
Whale watching in the Bay of Fundy with opera star Measha Brueggergosman.
Rick: “You know what’s a shame? That you lost 160 pounds, and then you came on this show and we made you wear this.”
Measha: “I know. It adds volume, I won’t lie.”
Rick: “The camera adds ten pounds, and then the survival suit adds about twenty-five.
”
HEIR TODAY
November 17, 2009
So the future King of Canada, Prince Charles, and his wife, Camilla, have left our shores and returned safely home to Britain. And sticking with that long-held Canadian tradition of absolute politeness, practised at dinner parties all over this great land, we can talk freely now that the guests of honour have finally left.
Thank God that’s over with. Why is it when the Royals pop in for a visit, we’re expected to drop everything? And we do—the Prime Minister of Canada, the Governor General, all the TV networks. In fact, the only people who didn’t show up this time were the crowds.
This royal visit began in an empty stadium in St. John’s, Newfoundland, and went downhill from there. And believe me, if the Royal Family can’t fill a stadium in Newfoundland, a place where some people still fly the Union Jack, there’s a serious problem. The Tragically Hip can fill that room four nights in a row, and they charge admission.
I know what’s going on here. Canada is the “B” circuit. It’s just like when I was a kid, and the World Wrestling Federation said they were coming to town. Did they send the Macho Man, Randy Savage? No, instead they sent some drunk guy in tights named Gary.
That’s the way the Royal Family views Canada. Look at Prince Harry. There’s a superstar. They sent Prince Harry to Lesotho for two and a half months. And what do we get? Eleven days with Camilla and a bill for a couple million bucks.
Look, Canada is 142 years old, and we still pledge allegiance to a family that lives in a castle in England. No hard feelings, nothing personal. It’s time we grew up.