Whack-A-Mole Season

Jeez. Did I just unaccountably wake up in Prague? Democratic tendencies seem to be bustin' out all over this spring!

Earlier this week, the Parliamentary librarian (and now stand-in budget officer) said, after an affirmative federal court ruling, that she'd keep dunning laggard departments for their financial data. The former parliamentary budget officer had requested those particulars before his term ended, and had finally gone all legal on departmental asses after they'd merrily thumbed their noses at him for months.

Since the PM doesn't seem to much like the questions the budget office asked, and seems to like even less the answers that it found, departmental types probably figured that those flying monkeys in short pants fluttering their batlike little wings behind the desks at the PMO HarperCo™® had their backs.

A little later, the House Speaker ruled that party whips and party leaders do not, in fact, hold final say over which members of parliament get to shoot their pet breezes in the house of commons. They can, in fact, ignore party whip's lists, and just bob up and down to catch the Speaker's eye until he calls on 'em to get windy about any number of Really Dumb Things. You know, like all of the real Westminster parliaments.

I can't imagine any of this pleases the famously, nay, notoriously tightly assed ummm, managed HarperCo™® Political Machine.

But given that machine's proclivity for stomping rogue speaking points, and pretty much all else of which it disapproves - so just about everything except faux-libertarianism, pointlessly badass Criminal Code amendments, and omnibus budget bills of staggering weight and purposely-vague complexity - I imagine that any ReformaTory MP who bobs up to catch the speaker's eye may also hafta consider hidden hazards associated with also catching their party whip's eye. Or, worse, the dead-fishy gaze of the PM hisself.

This could be good. I, myself, picture a giant game of Whack-A-Mole up there. And though I disagree with many of their Really Dumb Things, I kind of like the moles' chances for raising a more unseemly ruckus than has been seen for many a year. I expect party whips will be entertainingly frenetic as they try to squelch freelancers.

If security will deign to admit us as essential unaccompanied companion critters, us coyotes shall be in the visitors' gallery. Messily snarfing illicit snacks. Possibly for nourishment. Possibly the better to huck popcorn from the balcony when the whackin' action gets intense. . .

Being an aging quadruped of less than handy paw-eye coordination, I doubt I can peg it far enough to hit the PM on his metal forehead, but unreasonable hope springs eternal in a coyote's darkishly-multihued heart... it's what keeps us going. That, and spring. Maple syrup season, y'know. . .