This in from our campaign correspondent...

Mike Duffy on the taxpayers' dime

Some of us were knocking idly around the echoing expanses of the mothballed ESI product development labs over the weekend, raking out the mountain of junk mail under the slot by the door and checking to see if the little red blinky lights on the smoke alarms were still being irritating enough, when the Research Director alerted us that we were in in midst of what may only be called a serendipitous convergence of seemingly-disparate events.

First, Week Three of the Senator Mike Duffy Trial of the Decade (TM) was cannonballing toward us like a watermelon on a waterslide. And now the Royal Canadian Mint is urging people to enter its keen-o Design a Coin for Canada's 150th Anniversary contest online. The web page of which loads aggravatingly slowly, just so you know before you click on that link. Clicked already? Oops. Sorry! I digress. Where were we? Oh yeah:

"I'm kind of surprised nobody has entered a Mike Duffy on the Taxpayers' Dime design yet," said the Research Director, staring pointedly at us through his safety reading glasses.

We'd already started doodling something to celebrate Nickelback's decade of artistic integrity and photo ops in which their lead singer and the current PM shamelessly try to use each other for publicity purposes. But hey. We know a better idea when we hear it. And the Research Director has lasers. We picked out some different-coloured crayons and got to work.

So here you go, Royal Canadian Mint. It's a honey. You're welcome. And, uh, Canada? All we ask is that when it comes time, you remember which trained economic snake-oil marketer it was who put Senator Duffy on your public dime and told him to have at it, especially in the small matter of billing ya for purely partisan events, in the first place. . .

Harper wears Iraq

The PM, it is reported, has decided to dip a toe, likely newly-clad in spit shined combat boots for the photo op, into the sucking morass that is Iraq: "It's just Noble, okay? Clear and present danger to Canada, okay? But I'm not telling you anything else, nyah, nyah, nyah!"

One columnist type, probably tick-boxed on the PMO Enemies List as "mostly on-side, except when he's disturbingly off-script" called it Harper's Churchill moment.

In fairness to the pugnacious ol' bon vivant, we must note that for Churchill the danger was far more clear and present, and the actual battle arena far better defined. As opposed to being an amorphous wanna-be state moshing around the outback Middle East.

We jaded coyotes, by now probably on the PMO Enemies List, period, know that the moshers are vile people who do very vile things. We're just not clear how tossing a half-dozen planes and maybe two dozen guys into that pit to chase 'em is noble, or makes the PM the kind of heavy international playa he thinks he is. And he and his minions remain fatally short on supporting details. But we await his no-doubt historic speech with interest:

"We shall defend our shrinking polls, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches of our fake lake, we shall fight on the landing grounds we shall build for the F-35, we shall robocall the hell out of our data fields, we shall run for in the hills ; we shall never surrender! Although you can bet your fuzzy asses we'll prorogue. Whenever."

Yup. Words for the ages.

Science-y newsflash: coyote finds Dog Particle

Yep, it's in there. Look hard.

Harper: starting to wear that robocall thing...?

In all of the old and new media characterizations of the prime minister, Stephen Harper - including, but not restricted to, suggestions that he is a hyperpartisan, ethically-agnostic, neo-conservative, humourless, neo-controlfreakazoid, scheming, democratically-challenged, micromanaging, vindictive, teflon-milkshake-chugging, fiber-glass-haired robot, there was never much indication that it was the robot part that might take him out.

It has so far merely been the stuff of This Hour Has 22 Minutes satire.

But if I read aright the minor tsunami of e-ink rushing onto the shores of the rapidly-developing robocall scandal, he might actually be wearin' this one. It seems so obvious now, with even a short weekend's worth of retrospect. All the best reference works - yallerback science fiction paperbacks, graphic novels, comix, movies and futuristic role-playing games - often recommend fighting fire with fire.

Or in this case, ill-intentioned robots with ill-intentioned robots.

Although us semimythical coyotes hail from an ancient, far more animistic age, we try to stay on top of breaking trends. But we confess our ancient fuzzy-assed selves to be as flummoxed as anybody to find that the dumbest, scummiest, least-loved robot in modern life - demon dialer, robocaller,what you will - appears to have become, inadvertantly, the unlikeliest of unlikely heroes of the piece, rattling the relentless grey course of the uber-robot currently in charge of the country. He's probably telling the truth when he says he didn't know anything about it, but the weight of past evidence certainly suggest he actively fostered a,ummm, certain atmosphere and mindset among his partisan minions.

Irony abounds.

One can only imagine the mindset of the untold legions of spin doctors and strategists who've burrowed into the pickled oak wainscotting up at the PMO and PCO like a King-Hell carpenter ant infestation. They followed the standard playbook, fer cripes' sake, admitting no guilt but making the required ritual sacrifice. In this case, a low-level, hyper-enthusiastic little tory shit somehow fell under the party's increasingly bloody bus for unspecified, but highly-implied reasons. It should've satisfied the party base, and, really who cared about anybody else? They're all liberals and/or child pronographers anyway.

But the howls of the torch-bearing rabble under the ramparts got louder instead. Many who in the past could be relied upon to defend such behaviour have taken offence and started yowling themselves. It all appears to be too endemic, organized and well-bankrolled to be the work of one half-smart, if misguided, kid.

Seems you can pull a lot of fast ones in pursuit of partisan goals these days. Ignoring the traditions and laws of parliament has lately been seen as "welcome decisiveness" among a certain goal-oriented crowd, as if it was a good thing. But suddenly, it's seeming that if you appear to have really screwed with the bases of democracy enough times... well, then. Pattern recognition kicks in. Things Change.

We coyotes seen lotsa changes in our time. We're keepin' our yellow eyes on this one with more than our usual interest...

Item: 95+ to run for city council

Fair enough. We need some new faces in the electoral race. But if they all show up in the same teensy-weensy car, I'm leavin'...

$250K to transform 3 ? The RCMP needs us!

Y'know, this front page item totally arrested me (heh...) as I pawed thru this morning's Petfinder: the RCMP is set to pay $220,000 to send three deputy minister-level guys to counselling in Arizona, in hopes of transforming their organization, particularly its sliding public image. Factoring in travel, taxes, meals and booze, they'll likely sock out $80K to $85K to ship each warm body out for, ummm, transformational counselling. Which will then, of course, drip through the RCMP org chart like wholesome milk through a bowl of Grape Nuts...

I have no quibble with transformational counselling. What with tasers sizzling amok; questionable training; organizational arrogance and rot; PR stonewalling and BS*; and all-round not-getting-it-ness, the Mounties lately have been driving their spiffy squad cars in the PR ditch more often than not. They need to change.

What gripes me is the fact that we're outsourcing this lucrative gravy train ummm, serious and delicate matter, to US counsellors...

I mean, just yesterday, Aggie was saying that our long-term plans to (somehow) make tunza bux off this blog and never work again, were in serious peril. This story is karma!

I'd like to note that we ESIs are long-time experts in both personal and systemic transformation. For $85K a pop, I'm pretty sure we can offer the RCMP a competitive service. And it shouldn't stop at three guys. Oh, no. In fact, we recommend our comprehensive counselling package for all 25,000-odd sworn and unsworn members of the force.

According to my calculator, this rings up at a touch over $2 billion. Give or take a few bucks. Almost enough, I think, to keep us in the style to which we would love to become accustomed...

We have one condition: our fees are non-refundable. Because, while we, as professional counsellers, would do our utmost to create conditions for transformative change, it's up to the Mounties themselves to (heh, again....) cop to the responsibility. They've got to really want to change...

* Blue Serge...

Coyote's new identity

Oh, hi! Taste testing a new personal corporate identity. The old one is so two years ago. Waddaya think?

See, normally I'm a die-hard rabbit ears guy (They're deeelicious deep fried! Especially with homemade aoili for dipping! I digress!) but after a recent splash through the big dirty puddle that is cable TV, the US, ummm, news network with the canine name has not escaped my notice.

I'm amazed at what Rupert Murdoch accomplished by inferring (shades of Joe McCarthy...) that other broadcast and cable TV networks were a buncha suspicious pinkos. He staked out an underused extreme of the political spectrum and pushed the hell out of it with a clever mix of electronic jingoism, theatrics, bread, circuses, propaganda, vicious arrogance, demagoguery and outright lies. Painting a thin coat of faux (heh) news across the whole sorry edifice to (barely) legitimize the sheer extent of the nuttery was evil genius. Basically, a prefab crypto-religious cult has effectively tilted the entire US news industry's centre - already rightish - even further right.

So naturally I'm thinkin' we need something like it in Canada. Except that most of the news industry is already pretty right wing/business oriented. I mean, lately I read the grey, conservative Globe & Mail because it's the most balanced newspaper around. The local Petfinder, a former Southam jewel, retains a (dwindling) clutch of actual journalists, but years ago, in the name of Conrad-Black-style balance, threw select editorial & op-ed columns to a clutch of otherwise-unemployable righty hagiographers.

So given the rightside weight of things here, I'm going straight for the underused left. Huge shock, I know. I figure I already rant most of the time. May as well consolidate myself under a snappy new corporate identity, preach to the choir, build an empire, and sell lucrative broadcast ads. Lots and lotsa ads...

Huh? Whazzat? Whisper louder! Network TV is dying? Oh. Crap! Never mind! Back to Plan B. Watch for me on a certain blog near you. Same time, same channel. In an ever-changing cyberspace, some things dare to stay the same!

Yup. Photoshopped. Absolutely...

...but I dare you to prove it ain't, truthfully, an improvement on the original...