With five olives, and only a splash of vermouth.
Very, very dry.
It seemed appropriate to get into the hard liquor when watching The Great Canadian Wienerfest last night, which was, surprisingly not as dry as the Smirnoffs. It was actually entertaining.
Except for that tiresome Bill 101 debate between Harper and Duceppe.
Nobody, but nobody outside Haiti gives a rat’s ass what you do with your immigrants in Quebec.
That’s a regional issue.
Which again begs the question: what on Earth is Duceppe doing in the English debate? Except adding a bit of fashion flair amongst the dusty old navy jackets and red — and frightening yellow — ties and old man pants.
His suit was absolutely fabulous.
The debate was far from dry. It was a media consultant’s wet dream. Or great material for Saturday Night Live.
Do you remember that episode during the American election when the SNLers were goofing on the debate? When the camera caught John McCain wandering aimlessly around the set like a dementia patient?
Harper was like that last night. He didn’t even seem to be there.
Word to the Tory media geniuses.
No more than two Ativan before the French debate tonight.
Who was the genius who gave Little Stevie media training, anyway? Did you see him?
Sure, it’s okay to look into the camera, to talk to Canadians directly.
But who forgot to tell Harper about Camera Two? Every time the director cut to Camera Two, Stevie was still looking at Camera One.
Ah, Mr. Prime Minister… the red light’s there for a reason, okay.
Guess they didn’t use a floor director.
Also, when you’re debating somebody, even on television, you have to look at them — not at the camera. Nobody apparently told the prime minister. He was staring off into space.
Even during the one-on-ones, Stevie was looking into the lens like a moron who had never been to a television debate before.
The free for alls were wonderful to watch. It was like, I don’t know, a scene from Zelda except Link is in the combat room with a three-headed dragon spitting fire balls at him and left his sword and his bomchus in the other room. All he could do was smile, heh, heh.
And say “you’re wrong”.
Again, the Ativan. Only two, okay?
For his part, Steve Paikin makes a lovely host. You’d hardly know he was there.
That’s how they train them at TVO, I guess. To be invisible and good natured.
Oh, you were wondering what I thought of the issues?
There simply wasn’t enough talk about coalitions and not even a mention of hookers.
And only one of Bev Oda.
Advice for the candidates in advance of tonight’s debate?
Hydro Electric power. Boy, Quebecers should be pissed that the feds are giving something to Newfoundland instead of them for a change.
Maybe tonight, instead of watching the debate, I’ll tune in to the Liz May hour on the Internet.
Poor, poor Liz May. She didn’t get invited to The Great Canadian Wienerfest ‘cause, apparently, she ain’t got a wiener in this fight.
As a result, I have absolutely no idea what she thought of the debate.
Didn’t have time to check out her show at www.Ihaveavagina.com
After the debate, I switched to The Biggest Loser.
They were jumping off buildings in New Zealand.
They must have seen the English debate.
Oh well, the martinis were good, at least.
p.s. If you want to be really juvenile, check out this clip. Lisa LaFlamme is wearing the nipple jacket again.