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Ford flukes into dream job

That wily Rob Ford just got his dream job, and he’s pretending he doesn’t want it, like that sly kid in Mark Twain’s book or a clever animal in a fable.

The chief magistrate loves being mayor. He just hates all the, you know, work. Look at his record: huge unexplained absences, skipping critical meetings to coach football (those were the days), cottage time and secret meetings at Esso stations instead of civic duties, and on and on.

Ford finds the business of governing distasteful: the figuring, the facts, the building of alliances, the office job. But he loves the hanging out: having pictures taken, leisurely visiting constituents, phoning folks, the freedom to drop in on, uh, friends and maybe have a drink or two, toss something in the pipe and watch the game, any game.

Hey, Rob, want two hours in the gym? Take four, buddy – and all the towels you want.

Sure, he may hate gravy, but he’s now getting a full salary – 173,000 clams – to do a fraction of what he was supposed to be doing before. He’s cashing the whole cheque and free to wander the streets, shaking hands, high-fiving and posing for pictures like an itinerant musician. The busker mayor, just shy one instrument.

Get this guy a giant pad of oversized novelty cheques and a huge pair of scissors and he can happily pose for promo shots while the city-builders actually run local government. Lucky Ford can ditch those media scrums he dreads and busy himself appearing on The View, Springer, Fallon and the rest, his steadfast brother in tow.

He could probably score a Sesame Street cameo singing a song of redemption with Kermit, updating It’s Not Easy Being Green to It’s Not Easy Being Clean. So sweet, though redoing Rainbow Connection as Rob Ford Connection would be a mistake.

So come on, Rob, buddy, lose the crocodile tears and say thank you Toronto and maybe thank you to the maggots, left-wing conspirators, special interests and others who scored you your dream job. You get to frequent public events wearing your mayor’s chain and the stooped shoulders of the victim you claim to be, shut out by those rich elites. And, bonus, you can drum up support, on the taxpayers’ dime, for the next election. Yeah, kind of what you’ve been doing already, but no guilt.

Nobody wants you doing the real stuff, Rob. Enjoy the downtime, put up your feet, watch all the good game shows, then head by the Hall, grab a few bobbleheads, some magnets, some Ts and head back out for a good lunch and carefree days as the pretend mayor of Toronto.

You’re welcome.

michaelh@nowtoronto.com | @m_hollett

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