The cat lady of 24 Sussex
Did anyone see Prime Minister Harpseal’s interview with Bob and Doug McKenzie yesterday?
It was. Embarrassing.
Like most political junkies, I watch this interview every year to see how Harpseal worms his way out of tricky-wicket questioning about the budget, defence spending and who really is the father of Helena Guergis’ baby (I’m betting M. Bernier.)
But yesterday, I got no satisfaction.
Instead, I had to listen to Laureen drone on and on about life as the wife of the prime minister. She talked with Bob and Doug about her motorcycle riding, the kids’ schools and activities, whether she likes hockey or not (not) and her penchant for kidnapping Canadian rock artists and bringing them to 24 Sussex “for tea” and a jam session with the Great White Prime Minister.
Christ, talk about abusing the office. I can just imagine Chad Krueger sipping tea and playing Rock Around the Clock with our vocally challenged Prime Minister. Or Jann Arden and Harpseal harmonizing on Insensitive. The very idea makes skin crawl and testicles ascend.
The worst part of the interview was about Laureen’s love of animals, being the shit kicking farm girl she is.
She gushed for 10 minutes about the fact she fosters 150 cats at 24 Sussex.
Imagine the smell.
I was saying to Scott that the staff must have to wear gas masks to clean 150 litter boxes. Sheesh. And it’s a good thing that place doesn’t have to be resold or rerented anytime soon. (Although perhaps Laureen has a handle on the mice situation.)
I’m pretty sure there is a bylaw in Ottawa that a person can have only three animals at a time. Guess there’s a bylaw for you and me, and a bylaw for the Harpseals.
All this to say that that was a pretty lameo interview. Curious, why did Laureen get so much face time?
Maybe the PMO wants to finally put to rest all those lurid rumors of her fondness for the RCMP stables and suites at the Chateau Laurier. After all, an election is not too far off.
Another thing that’s been bugging me this year, concerns the political Christmas cards sent out by various leaders. There was much hoo-hah about the fact that none of the Christmas cards were, well, Christmas cards. Most of them looked like they were shot in a parking lot. Rasputin actually had his Christmas card photographed in front of a campaign sign. Ho, ho, fucking ho.
At least Justin Trudeau wore fur, so we knew his card was shot in Canada.
Welcome to the political silly season, ladies and germs. Posturing 101.
Let’s get the election over with. I’m tired already.