by Rick Mercer
If you’re dealing with people who go through life and don’t care about right or wrong and don’t care about democracy as we know it and only care about what they can get away with … all the reform in the world won’t make a difference.
With Allan Hawco on the set of Republic of Doyle, St. John’s, Newfoundland.
Rick: “Republic of Doyle—everyone’s favourite detective show here on the CBC. And look who it is—the star of Republic of Doyle! The 1968 Pontiac GTO.”
SCANNERS
November 30, 2010
Well, the holiday season is fast approaching, and this is the time of the year when our thoughts turn to airport security. Because it seems that the media and the federal government are suddenly obsessed with the ethics of the full-body scan and the so-called invasive body search. Which, I believe, is a totally inappropriate term. Let’s face it: anyone who has turned forty and had a routine medical exam understands that nothing that happens at the airport should be described as invasive.
It is very simple: if you want to get on a plane, you gotta go through the metal detector, and occasionally, if you’re lucky, you get sent to the extra-special touchy-feely line. And when that happens, you go into the body scanner, and then, ten seconds later, you’re done.
But yes, it does produce an anonymous, semi-naked image of your body. But do you know whose rights I believe are being violated here? The guy in the basement who has to look at those images for twelve hours a day. I mean, have you ever looked around an airport or a bus terminal in this country? Canadians are a wonderful, proud, lumpy northern people—and we look best with our clothes on. So I don’t know what that guy in security did in his past life, but he’s paying for it now.
Now, of course, if you don’t want the body scan, you can opt for the pat down. And again, I pity the person who does that for a living. I have witnessed rude and aggressive behaviour at airport security more times than I can count. And 99 percent of the time, it is us, the morally outraged travelling public, that are at fault. Look, if you don’t like to be touched, take it up with your therapist or your member of Parliament. Because remember, the government makes the rules here, not the folks in the rubber gloves.
So this holiday season, let’s say everyone just calm down, remove the coins from our pockets and let security do their job. Because when they do their job, we get home safe.
NEW CABINET
January 11, 2011
Now that the holidays are over and Canadians are back to work, I believe this is a perfect time for all of us to sit back and reflect on all the hard work done by our members of Parliament. No, actually, what I meant to say is it’s the perfect time to reflect on the fact that, for members of Parliament, Christmas vacation begins on December 16 and extends all the way to January 31. Kids in kindergarten get less time off at Christmas. But a few of the MPs popped into work last week for the cabinet shuffle. Which was huge news in Ottawa. Because in Ottawa, no matter what happens, it always leads to election speculation. In fact, for some people, predicting there’s going to be an election is a full-time job.
Now, of course, the Prime Minister’s Office says this is not true, and that the only reason there was a shuffle was because there was a gaping hole in cabinet. Now, personally, I believe that’s a terrible way to refer to any cabinet minister—but that is the level of discourse you find in Ottawa these days.
So, how did Harper fill the gaping hole? He inserted Peter Kent. Which sounds more fun than it is. This is a government that has had five environment ministers in five years. Having the Prime Minister make you the environment minister is a bit like getting a bad result on your CAT scan. And the Prime Minister also made Julian Fantino the new minister in charge of senior citizens. Now, to be fair, Fantino brings a lot of experience to this file. For example, he knows that when dealing with the older folks, you want to dial the taser down a notch or two. And the Prime Minister went out and created a brand new ministry. Making this pretty much the biggest cabinet in Canadian history. There are now more limousines per square foot on Parliament Hill than in downtown Dubai. Which leads me to believe the Prime Minister is preparing to trigger an election. So please, let me join the election speculators and say, in true Ottawa-speak, I believe it is on, it is imminent. I am 100 percent certain, but I could be wrong.
IGGY ON TOUR
January 18, 2011
Canada in the winter. It is a wonderful, stunning, terrible place. But we adapt, we are resilient. Canadians celebrate the winter. In fact, I’ve done the math: for every twelve Canadians, there are three winter festivals featuring frostbite, tears and hot chocolate for the kids. But there are realities, such as: if you’re travelling in this country at this time of year, you can forget about having a schedule. You might as well prepare an itinerary for a voyage through the seventh circle of hell. Sure, your flight is leaving Churchill, Manitoba, at seven-thirty in the morning, but if the ice blowing across the highway is taking the paint off the rental van, there might be some delays. And then you might have to drive. Which can be very dangerous. There is only so much Tim Hortons chili one man can eat. So, that being said, I am thrilled that all of our political leaders have chosen this time of the year to hit the road—because, well, I’m not particularly fond of any of them.
Now, my favourite itinerary belongs to the Michael Ignatieff 20/11 Tour. Twenty towns in eleven days, in the dead of winter. Now, personally, I believe nine towns in eleven days would have been more practical, but I guess “Ignatieff 9/11” doesn’t send the right message. So twenty towns it is. Including, tomorrow, Miramichi, New Brunswick. Where two feet of snow is considered a light dusting. He’d better hope that Harper doesn’t call a snap election, because a man can go into Miramichi this time of year and be stuck there until the spring. But on the upside, after a couple of weeks snowed in on the floor of a Econo Lodge somewhere, it will be hard to accuse Ignatieff of being out of touch with the average Canadian. So here’s to winter, our political leaders and their tight schedules. Wear long johns, embrace the unknown—and easy on the chili.
WHO APPROVED THIS MESSAGE?
January 25, 2011
In politics, attack ads used to be the exception to the rule. And campaign ads outside of a campaign were completely unheard of. And now, both exceptions are the new normal. Canadians are no longer allowed the luxury of sitting down and watching an episode of Heartland—a lovely story about a girl and her horse—without being bombarded with a doomsday voice telling us that Michael Ignatieff taught at Harvard. Which, according to the Conservatives, is worse than punching a nun.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I don’t care if they go after Ignatieff over some policy that he might have. Have at him! I just can’t believe, after all these years, they’re still harping on about the fact that he worked outside of the country. And I take this personally because I’m from Newfoundland. And like a lot of Newfoundlanders, when I became an adult, I went away to work. In fact, I have worked away from Newfoundland for about as long as Michael Ignatieff worked outside the country. And if Stephen Harper ever looked me in the eyes and said, “You’re not a Newfoundlander,” I think my head would come off.
Or better yet, I would love to see him say that to, say, Gordon Pinsent, because who doesn’t like to sit back and watch an eighty-year-old man slap the hell out of someone half his age.
Negative ads are depressing. I don’t care who makes them. And at the end of the day, the entire country suffers because it drags the entire political process right down into the toilet. So if we are going to borrow every horrible political tactic ever developed in the United States, let’s take another page from their book. Because at least in the United States, if one party attacks another party, the leader responsible has to pop up at the end and say, “I’m Joe Blow and I approve this message.” In Canada, our leaders don’t do that. And my guess is they never will. Because that takes courage. And bullies generally have none.
On a date with Danielle Smith, Alberta’s Wild Rose Alliance Le
ader, at the West Edmonton Mall.
Rick: “So, you don’t like negative campaigns?”
Danielle: “No.”
Rick: “You don’t like deficits?”
Danielle: “No.”
Rick: “And you don’t like caucuses that are gagged?”
Danielle: “That’s right.”
Rick: “So you’re not what you would call a Harper Conservative.”
SNOW DAYS
February 8, 2011
Lately, I’ve taken to listening to talk radio. I go online and I pop around the country and see what people are getting angry about. And boy, we are an angry bunch. Usually, we’re angry because someone somewhere is gettin’ away with something. But this past week, the anger in this country has been off the charts. And why? Snow days. Parents in Toronto are having full-blown aneurisms. And I have to ask you, what is wrong with the adults in this country? And who are these people calling in and saying that when they were kids there was no such thing as snow days? There were snow days in this country in 1864. The only difference is back then the miserable adults who were complaining couldn’t call into a radio station.
Cripes, the kids in Toronto have not had a day off because of snow since 1999. You know what that means? That means there’s an entire generation of schoolchildren in Canada’s largest city who have no idea what it’s like to go to bed at night dreading a math test, only to wake up the next morning and find out, as if by some divine intervention, school has been cancelled. And then they head out, hit the toboggan hill all day, come home, eat supper, pass out because they’re exhausted, wake up the next day and botch the math test because they didn’t study, because it was a snow day.
And when school is cancelled for no real reason because the big snowstorm doesn’t come? Even better. Because when it comes to someone getting away with something for nothing, it doesn’t get much better than that. So instead of getting angry about snow days, why don’t we celebrate them? Why don’t we embrace them for exactly what they are: a rite of passage, a part of being Canadian?
The snow day. It should be put on a stamp.
Ice canoeing in Quebec City.
Rick: “Whose idea was it to put Mike Duffy in the boat?”
MR. HARPER, ARE YOU ON YOUR MEDS?
Maclean’s, April 4, 2011
Week one of the campaign, and I admit I am starting to side with my friends who occasionally question my sanity for following Canadian politics at all, let alone so closely. “Why in God’s name would you pay any attention to that bunch of boobs and losers?” they ask. “Boobs and losers?” I say. “How dare you. These are the best and the brightest that Canada has to offer.” Depression kicks in soon after.
Being a political junkie in this country is a bit like being a diehard Leafs fan. Year in and year out, they believe they will witness magnificence and magic, and year in and year out, they witness the opposite. But still they continue to show up, cheer, pay through the nose for a hot dog and leave in tears.
This election certainly started out with a bang. My prediction that the Liberals would, at the last minute, run away and hide behind the dumpsters on Parliament Hill and avoid the vote did not come to pass. The government was defeated on a confidence motion because they were in contempt of the House of Commons. A vote that Stephen Harper immediately claimed did not occur. He didn’t deny the semantics of the vote—he simply denied it happened at all, preferring instead to believe his government was defeated on the budget. There is evidence to the contrary—after all, he was there and it was on TV—but still, as far as he is concerned, it didn’t happen. Some people might consider this inability to understand or admit to what is happening in one’s immediate surroundings symptomatic of a small stroke or a severe concussion, but in Ottawa it’s just a symptom of spending too much time around people in the PMO.
I like elections. Governments don’t fall every day, but I understand why some people feel that they do. Four elections in two years is a lot. I have baking soda in the fridge that is older than this government, and I still have Tabasco from back in Paul Martin’s day.
But elections are important. We all know that $300 million is a lot of money—it is a sobering fact that $300 million could be used to purchase a thousand MRI machines for rural Canada … or six gazebos in Tony Clement’s riding. But this is a democracy, and this is the cost of doing business.
According to Stephen Harper, this election is about choices. We either elect a stable majority Conservative government or a coalition of liberals, socialists, separatists, criminals and child predators, and not in that particular order.
Michael Ignatieff also says this election is about choice. He says we have a choice between the Red Door and the Blue Door, blissfully unaware that it is not the doors that people are wary of, but the two knobs out front.
Jack Layton says he is the next Prime Minister of Canada. He, too, may be suffering from a concussion.
That said, once the government fell, both Harper and Ignatieff showed that they do things very differently. Stephen Harper made a terse statement on the situation and refused to take questions. Michael Ignatieff made a terse statement on the situation, took questions, but refused to give answers.
How Michael Ignatieff could orchestrate the defeat of the government and launch himself into a campaign without an answer for the coalition question is beyond me. But that was what he did, attempting to dodge the question in both official languages.
At one point, he declared, “I am a democrat,” and grabbed his man-breasts in a death clutch. Still, the press was not sated, and he had no other choice but to go home and issue a statement that said unequivocally he would not seek to form a coalition with any other political party.
Over at the Harper campaign, jubilation about the disaster that was Ignatieff’s first press conference was short-lived. Turns out Stephen Harper also dabbled with separatist coalitions in the not-so-distant past, and there is proof—not in the form of a forgotten blue dress, but in the form of a letter signed by Harper and Gilles Duceppe and sent to then Governor General Adrienne Clarkson.
Personally, I am shocked that Stephen Harper tried to get in bed with Gilles Duceppe. Experimentation of this kind in college is one thing, but that late in life I think that it probably means you’re hiding something that will always be there—namely, a desire to do anything and everything to stay in power.
Jack Layton’s post-vote press conference should have gone well. Jack was born for this type of work. Except, instead of talking to Canadians about his version of events, he had to answer personal questions about his health, revealing his prostate-specific antigen numbers. At one point, he offered to remove his clothes right there on Parliament Hill to allow journalists to inspect his scars. Nobody took him up on the offer, Rosemary Barton having not been in attendance.
That said, Jack Layton didn’t reveal personal information about his health because the gallery wanted to know; he did it because, earlier that day, Conservatives had fanned out across the country and were practising the dark arts. The whisper campaign they had been conducting about Jack’s health was stepped up a notch.
Conservative Senator Mike Duffy, who can perhaps kindly be described as the most amoral partisan hack ever to draw a breath, went on radio in Nova Scotia, a province of potential growth for the NDP, and in the hushed tones usually reserved for a palliative-care unit, told a radio audience that he personally saw Jack on the Hill and “it doesn’t look good, Jack doesn’t look good … he is a valiant man for carrying on.”
It takes a certain kind of man to gleefully trade on an opponent’s battle with cancer. Mike Duffy is that man. It is why, I suppose, Stephen Harper appointed him to the chamber of sober second thought. I say that if the Conservatives want Jack’s prostate to be an issue in the campaign, let all the leaders’ health be on the table. Weekly prostate exams for all. And we’d also like to know what meds our leaders are on—or more importantly, what meds they are off—on any given day.
As I writ
e this, the campaign is in full swing. This time around, the Liberals have a plane, chartered from an outfit in Alberta, that looks like everyone else’s plane, so nobody is making fun of them. The Conservative plane is chartered from Air Canada, so if you’re a journalist, that’s the plane to be on. Unlike the Liberal plane, every flight with the Tories gives you Aeroplan travel miles. By the end of the campaign, the journalists will have so many travel miles they will have a card that says “super elite” on it, just like the one John Baird carries.
Harper’s plane also has the snazziest paint job. It has the words Harper and Canada emblazoned on the side, and in an act of humility not seen since the release of James Cameron’s Avatar, Harper’s billing puts his name above Canada’s, and in the same size and font. Rumour has it his agent demanded this or he refused to appear. Across the tarmac, it looks like “Harper is Canada,” and I suppose that is the point.
We will be seeing these planes a lot over the next five weeks as each leader, with his various campaign workers, minions, sycophants and journalists spread out across the country and visit every province and region, back and forth, multiple times. This is what democracy in action looks like. Because of this never-ending road show, at campaign’s end we will have a more informed and engaged electorate—or, at the very least, a bedbug epidemic.