Paul Calandra...

...The Prime Minister's Speshul Parliamentary Secretary for disrespect of Parliament, the Canadian public, common courtesy and logic...

Pierre Poilievre's root causes

Last night, our handsomely large and sensitive coyote ears were, ummm, pinned back on our fuzzy scalps, as the twittering classes became loud hooting classes exploding at federal MP Pierre Poilievre's latest brayed sophistry, on one of CBC's political panels:

"The Root Cause of Terror is Terrorists!!"

They were not kind.  But then, the boy-MP does not invite kindness these days, if he ever did.  Possessed of a (possibly voice coached) foghorn bellow, hyperconfident condescension, an over greased Brylcreem coif, blind trust in PMO talking points of highly dubious intellectual rigor, a penchant for blue suits far too expensively sharp for his actual status, and John Baird's insufferable hair for a political mentor, PP is a rising young ReformaTory's ReformaTory.

But his inability to think for himself on his feet - and probably reclining as well - is not the strong point that us coyotes imagine he fondly imagines it is.

Last week, when CBC's panel host Hannah Thibedeau drilled into him for repeated, dogged inanity in a discussion that had far exceeded the capacity of  his one-line script to cope, he smugly told her that she couldn't ask him that question.  Because it wasn't in his prepared talking points.  He looked to believe - proudly - that this was an unbeatable trump card.

This week, defending  in another CBC TV panel the PM's long-distance snipe at Justin Trudeau, that "now is not the time to commit sociology on terrorists"  Poilievre woofed up the circular reasoning in question.

I admit that labelling it "reasoning" is a disservice to the lingo as she is normally spoke.  And by the same token, us coyotes think that now is probably not a time to commit economics, either, since both it and sociology like to call themselves sciences, when they're more akin to reading horoscopes and crystal balls through a spreadsheet darkly.  Stephen Harper, trained-but-never-practicing-economist, please take note.  I commit a digression.  Oopsy.

Now, where was I?  Oh, ummm, yeah.

So.  By the callow MP's own(?) logic(?), it must now stand that the root cause of pinheadedness is pinheads. Draw your own conclusions from there, blogosphere.  Us coyotes have finished hacking our contractually obligated 350 words into this ESI thingy.  It's time for our coffee break. Is it too early to spike it?

Seen slinking out of town last night

Mere days or so tardy of American Thanksgiving, all sortsa news types last night began averring that this country's F35 Lightning Joint Strike Fighter procurement process was done like dinner. The carved remains were already being forked over unto destruction or home made turkey soup, whichever comes first.

The Harpoon Government's (©®, and especially ™. . .) designated spokesthingy denied it. Well, he would, wouldn't he? But since this government has repeatedly been revealed as rather more than, ummm, strenuously economical with the truth on this line item and sundry others, some long-time parliamentary reporters hooted (Tweeted, actually. I digress.) at him with something bordering on open derision, ummm, all due respect. . .

Let the spin begin. I'm anticipatin' that it'll be fittingly supersonic.

Meanwhile, last night, as dusk descended, a large, droopy-feathered shadow could be heard either gobbling or wailing something very much like, "But I don't understand! I'm Fifth Generation!" as it slunk (stealthily...) down the road out of town.

And somewhere in the deeper shadows off to the side of the turkey track, another large droopy feathered shadow - this one with an aqualine nose - could be heard quietly sniffling something very much like, "My heart's a little banged up too. But don't worry, li'l fella! I'm as loyal to you as to my neighbour's dog. . ."

Peter MacKay...

...Never a man to back away from a Challenger...

Oh, hey, StatsFans!

The statistic I'm most urgently concerned about right now is a disturbing spike in the unreported proportion of Canadians that think Stockwell Day is an unreported bonehead.

Not that we coyotes would ever resort to ad hominem slurs ourselves, y'understand...

ESI: The Sock Puppet Movie

Anybody who dips into this chaotic little opus semi-regularly will remember that we've often referred to ESI: The Sock Puppet Movie as 'stalled in development'. So often, in fact, that we were thinking of renaming it that.

We haven't given up, but it's been hell, people. HELL! Stealing Audrey's favourite pink socks for cast costumes. Persuading Conch Shell to rewrite the umpteenth screen treatment. Hiring and firing script writers left, right and center. Trying to line up backers with actual money. Focussing the Independent Don Cherry Observer's lenses on a non-hockey topic. Setting up screen tests. Preventin' the Chair from taking advantage of the Casting Couch. Pryin' Aggie off Facebook, yet again. Gettin' a director's beret... stealin' it back from the Dwarf... cuttin' holes in it so my ears would fit. Doin' lunch 'till it's coming out of our ears. Explaining to Harmony that the mauled cat is lunch, then buying Gravol for her, earplugs for me, and grape Kool-Aid for the Canada Geese. It goes on and on.

Few investors out there seemed for awhile to want to drop their mad-money on the production values that this piece of cinema verite so richly deserves. Yet, perversely, we've had to beat off Brad & Angelina, Jen & Ben, Cameron & Drew, Tom & Katie, Ashton & Demi and even frickin' Paris -- and all of their agents, for gawdsakes-- when it leaked out that we were casting character voices.

Nevertheless! Rising from the chaos! At last! A very-high-quality test clip, based on the never-before-told, unexpurgated story of our adventures in the Caribbean! Only now, can we finally begin to tell you what really happened that night on the fateful three-hour cruise! The dark and lonely lost months afterward! The climb back to bloggy goodness on Elgin Street! Everybody's talking about it! The summer blockbuster of 2007! You can't afford to not to see this! Roger Ebert gives it four paws, straight up, and he hasn't even watched it yet!




('Kay, kiss-kiss mmmmm-wah! You look fabulous! Terrific Botox work! Love ya! Have your people call my people, and we'll do lunch at Hollywood's Number One restaurant sometime. I'll bring my own cat...)