Monday, October 01, 2007

Only real leaders shoot themselves in the foot with such vigor!

Okay, enough beating up on Ian Urquhart. He thinks he knows why John Tory adopted the laughably self-destructive policy on religious schools:
...Tory's policy can be traced back to his bid for the provincial party leadership in 2004.

His two opponents – Jim Flaherty and Frank Klees – were in favour of restoring the tax credit for private schools, an initiative of the previous Conservative regime that the Liberal government had killed.

Tory felt the tax credit was vulnerable to attack by the Liberals on two grounds: 1) it would go to parents who send their kids to elite schools like Upper Canada College; and 2) it would be funnelled to schools with uncredentialed teachers and dubious curricula.

But under pressure from the Harrisite wing of the party, Tory agreed to bring the tax credit back in one form or another.
This, I think, is the real body-blow to Tory's claims that this scheme wouldn't hurt public school funding: the policy was put together for the sole purpose of appeasing people who want to hurt public school funding. To put it another way, the prime lesson of Bushism is that interests (and interest groups) matter: if you're not interested in, say, making sure that prisoners of war aren't tortured, then watch out what happens. If you don't take civilian deaths seriously, you can end up with a bloodbath on your hands. And whatever fringe benefits your policy may have, you can't escape the paternity of it's creators.

Just one more reason to not vote for him: despite all his talk of leadership, he wasn't man enough to tell the base to go pound sand.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

As they say in the medical business, "The only good Tory is a suppository."

The New February Holiday Alternative

The link leads to an audio version of the text that I have included in this email.


NOTE: The following article contains musical interludes - a first not only for this newspaper, but also for Ontario since the invention of language ... and just another sign that we are indeed living in strange times!

WARNING: Tone deaf and rythmically-challenged readers/listeners should not continue beyond this point!

(Sung to the tune of ‘Shboom’ by The Crewcuts)
Kaching! Kaching! Yuck yuck I’m stuck in the muck!

Do you remember a few Februaries past when the operative question was, “Hey Buddy. Can you spare a snowblower ... or a flamethrower?

It has become all too evident that during those interminable wintry times that Ontarians time again suffer needlessly from ‘The Hackin’ Pneumonia and Mushy Dress Socks Blues’.
According to Monsieur McGuinty, what Ontario needs is another holiday - or maybe even two - to break up the grey interlude between Christmas and Easter. Qu├ębec has its Carnaval, New Orleans has its Mardi Gras, and what do the rest of us do? That’s right – we sit around waiting for a hibernating rodent, encouraged by electric prods, to stick its nose out of a dank burrow and hint to us what the weather might be like six weeks later. I’d rather take my chances with The Inuit Farmer’s Almanac.

Kaching! Kaching! Boo Hoo it looks like pooh!

As a public service I propose to my fellow, suffering Ontarians the creation of The Ukrainian Woodchuck (pronounced WoodCHOOK) Festival. It would begin on February 2 of the Gregorian Calendar, run for two weeks and end on February 2 of the Julian Calendar.

The event would begin with the annual Running of the Woodchuck. Children would dig up hibernating groundhogs and chase the rodents through the streets of major cities in the land. The slower woodchucks would be ground up into any variety of kolbassa that a reveller could imagine. Appetizing indeed when the only other cultural, winter alternative is hagis. No ‘tilt in yer kilt’ jokes please!

Kaching! Kaching! Dum dum dum dum dum dum!

Pinatas could be fashioned from the really slow groundhogs and stuffed with those Christmas leftovers that you bought way back last November.

Since the ambient body temperature of most hibernating mammals is approximately 5°C, woodchucks are rather sedentary in February. With all the hype over interactive toys (think back to Furbies and Tickle Me Elmo) what better substitute? All over the country, disadvantaged kids, who don’t know any better, would squeal with joy at the chance to possess their own slightly odoriferous Nouveau Furby. Of course there would be instructions included, written in about 17 different languages translated by the valedictorian of Beijing No. 14 High School, warning about not changing the batteries.

Kaching! Kaching! Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!

After a number of cross-multicultural celebrations, like Scottish woodchucking, the Festival would terminate with ‘The Political Forest Scrum’. Politicians would be stripped naked at 6 pm and told there are 100 voters in a nearby snow-filled forest and that the one who gets to the most of them by morning will receive a pension for life. In reality there would be only 10 voters scattered throughout the designated area. Of course these electors would be warmly dressed while the politicians would suffer little harm seeing as how blood flow to many parts of their body - such as the brain - is quite limited to begin with.

The colour of their skin the following day would predict the winner of the next election - blue - a Tory victory; red - a Liberal government; yellow - NDPee!

(P.S. No woodchucks or politicians were hurt in the writing of this piece.)

(Sorry. No more verses. If you’ve read this far you deserve a break!)

The link leads to an audio version of the text that I have included in this email.