And Then There Were Fifty-Six, or Some Stupid Thing (An Update on the Conservative Leadership Race)

The geese are back and are already hissing at me; it's not even youngling seasons yet but there they are, nevertheless. I suppose it's inevitable: if you're going to rip a few of their heads off with your bare hands and then chase the others away in the middle of the night, flailing the corpses wildly, they're bound to give you some kind of a reputation and a pissy attitude. I intend on at least earning the shit they give me.

Nowadays I'm spending my midnights in the gym, by and large. It's the perfect way to balance a deep rooted hatred of human beings with the need to use modern and up to date equipment. Some of my fondest fitness memories come from all-night gyms too, like the time I watched the entire Israel-Lebanon war on CNN International at two o'clock every morning from a treadmill in a darkened retail basement. The treadmills weren't connected to YouTube back then, so it turns out I have a lot of catching up to do.

This week however, there's been one way to spend a late night that's just as good for the heart and soul as a bout in the gym. Anyone can do it and everyone should, at least once: pour yourself a nice glass of wine, sit out somewhere where there's a nice warm breeze, and read the comments on Kevin O'Leary's Facebook posts.

"Coward!" they cry, as he announced he was dropping out of the Conservative leadership race and endorsing Maxime Bernier. "Traitor!" Apparently a good number of people - suffering from some kind of reasoning defect - joined the Conservative party to vote for him and want him on the ballot. As if the possibility that the guy who skipped out on debates to shill for shitty wine on the Shopping Channel might not make it all the way across the finish line. Surprise!

O'Leary is citing his lack of French as the deciding factor for him to drop out (as of this posting there was no explanation as to why that wasn't considered before he got into the race to begin with), while almost everyone agrees that he's probably dropping out to avoid the embarrassment of losing to someone like Bernier or Scheer or whichever clown is ultimately successful in taking over that clown car.

Personally, I think it's more the opposite - I think he was scared he might win. Polls suggested it was a real possibility and if you can't even be bothered to show up for your own campaign events then why would you want to actually do even more? Especially for less money and after relocating from Sun Beach, FL (where you're surrounded by gropeable girls in skanty bikinis who probably let you do whatever you want if you're a star) to a drab boring dump like Ottawa. The whole thing was like a reality TV stunt and we are well rid of it.

By my reckoning this leaves Racist-in-Denial Kellie Leitch and her former partner-in-crime Chris 'I ought to know better' Alexander, a gestalt entity of Tory MPs of which Scheer or O'Toole are the best bets (don't bother Googling their first names, they won't be around long), self-styled "Mad Max" Bernier, Michael Chong, and a squadron of C-listers vying for the leadership.

Of the bunch, Chong is the only faintly interesting one because in addition to playing a surprise cameo in the best Globe and Mail disaster of the year, he was evidently unaware that he was supposed to do a gong-show act as part of the contest.

He's also caught my attention because he seems to have been able to trick some people into thinking he isn't really a Conservative. Supporting carbon pricing has thrown some lefties for a loop, a feat made even easier when they gloss over the fact that he wants to eliminate dozens of programs which work to curb carbon emissions, as well as cut three income tax brackets and corporate to benefit the rich. His proposal on Parliamentary reform was genuinely interesting but even if he were somehow able to win a leadership election for a party whose members probably think he's from "Red China" and then a general election against Justin Trudeau it seems unlikely much of it would be able to come to fruition anyway.

Ugh, whatever. I oscillate wildly between wanting this race to finally be over, and wanting it to go on forever. With O'Leary out and no longer making videos about how the country he hasn't lived in for years is run by female CBC executives, or struggling to answer basic questions about how government works, there really doesn't seem to be much point in going on any longer. Conveniently, advanced balloting started yesterday so let's get this show on the road.

Man's Search For Clarity

I don't know how crazy-ass stupid you have to be to be appointed as the White House Press Secretary but I'm starting to believe even I could do it, and I used to jam forks into toasters to rotate bagels. I suppose it probably helps when the boss is a petulant man-child who can be sidetracked by a slice of chocolate cake.

Alas, by the time you read this Sean Spicer will be on his sixth or seventh clarification in a desperate attempt to make us all understand exactly why he tried to compare Bashar al-Assad to Adolf Hitler by arguing that Hitler hadn't used chemical weapons on his own people - which is baffling because for more than sixty years "using chemical weapons on his own people" has been the textbook definition of Adolf Hitler; it's how he built his personal brand.

Spicer's previous attempts (plural!) to refine his remarks included watching him struggle lamely to find the words "Concentration camp", before giving up that spectacular mental wrestling match and calling them "Holocaust Centers" right there on live TV. Then there was some gibberish about how technically Hitler never dropped chemical weapons from airplanes and that's all he really meant to say; rhetorical Adonis that he is. It's probably correct, I guess, since you don't have to use an airplane when you just drop the pellets through a hatch in the roof. Which for the record the Nazis did a lot, the White House later had to point out in a statement in this the year of our Lord, 2017.

Really, Holocaust Centers? Holocaust Centers? Look, Sean, heaven knows I've forgotten my train of thought my fair share of times before, but if you can use the word Holocaust without remembering fucking "Concentration Camp" you need to get out of the White House Press Briefing Room and lie down until the ketamine wears off.

I suppose it could also be that you're deliberately trying to undermine the severity of the Nazis' crimes by avoiding a particular phrase that comes with a lot of unpleasant baggage and imagery in favor of a term that, frankly, I'm surprised Richard Spencer hasn't already trademarked for a future business name. But in all honesty I doubt the Press Secretary is clever enough for that - he's more banal than he is Bannon - and if there is one thing that may save us all these next (Jesus!) three years and ten-months, it'll be that the Trump administration keeps shooting itself in the foot and then trying to cover it up by shooting itself in the stomach.

Surely it won't be long now before Spicer ends up out on his ass and off on his next adventure, forming the world's shittiest crisis communications firm with the soon-to-be-former-CEO of United Airlines and whichever maniac wrote the Kardashian Pepsi ad.

Surely.

Fuck me, it's been a banner week for morons. For a brief moment in time it looked like I was going to be writing a post about how some good things have actually happened: the Republicans got spanked but good on health care and Paul Ryan got to look like a massive turd, Nikki Haley's gone rogue at the UN, Kevin O'Leary continues to lead in a race that promises to keep our own Conservatives in the political doldrums for another four years, and winter finally seems to be lifting. As I write this diatribe there's no shortage of "Ben Carson gets stuck in elevator" headlines to laugh at, and that is very welcome change from a detailed analysis of Mike Pence's filthy and bizarre perversions.

I've even started to lose weight, having decided to drastically reduce the number of calories I eat to practice for my frail dotage, when there won't be any Meals on Wheels at all.

The good always comes at a cost, though. It's unavoidable. The President's dementia continues to flare up, finally acting on Syria may end up triggering World War III, and cutting most of the alcohol out of my diet has ruined my ability to sleep. I just keep wandering around in a daze, unable to balance the catastrophically high levels of caffeine and rage-spittle in my blood.

I guess what I'm saying is that beach and cigar season can't come soon enough.