Folks who need to be more prophetic than pathetic
JOHN MANLEY, Foreign Affairs Minister: The portfolio does not make the man. Enough macho war posturing already. All that time spent as industry minister (read puppet of the U.S.) has coloured his contacts.
JIM FLAHERTY, Ontario Finance Minister, Tory leadership hopeful: First it was tax breaks for private schools, then that ridiculous emergency budget. Hundred-dollar cheques for poor people? Please, Jim, don’t think. Better still, why don’t you run for the leadership?
DALTON McGUINTY, Ontario Liberal leader: If we have to endure any more of his pronouncements on “The Family,” we’re going to puke. Yeah, we know, Mike Harris is divorced, Ernie Eves splitsville. Shit happens. Are the Liberals so bankrupt when it comes to ideas that they have to employ veiled Christian Coalition tactics to score cheap points against the Tories? The answer: yup.
B’NAI BRITH: Pumping up the anti-terrorist rhetoric here in Canada to create sympathy for Israel is divisive and irresponsible. We pine for the kinder, gentler days of Karen Mock. And those “Jewish Canada Responds” press releases? Who says they speak for Jewish Canada? Less venom, more understanding, please.
ALEXA McDONOUGH, Federal NDP leader: We can’t bear to write one more column asking her to vacate. Yes, her critique of war hysteria was very courageous. But enough already. Step down immediately. Uncle.
PAUL GODFREY: The real mayor of Toronto leaves the Sun for the Blue Jays and screws them up, too. The Jays lost a whopping $60 million this year, third-highest in the majors. So much for God’s marketing acumen. Wait a minute, isn’t this the same guy who got kicked off the Skydome board for going way over budget? The irony.
LOBLAWS: For all the environmental marketing hype, Loblaws continues to cover over the GMO-free labels on products. Companies doing their best to deliver real foods should be able to say so on their labels. Grow up, profit hogs. Let the people decide.
TORONTO NEWSPAPER COLUMNISTS who tell us way too much about their personal lives —
Rosie DiManno: A break, please, from the pining about the latest guy you’ve failed to bed.
Christie Blatchford: See above.
Leah McLaren: For not doing enough to disabuse us of that old stereotype –you know, the one about blonds and very little grey matter.
Rebecca Eckler: The life of a privileged 20-something who can’t decide what handbag to tote for her next assignment on how to pick up guys. Gets pretty tired after, oh, about a column.
Royson James: It pains him to be critical of Mel. It pains us to read his stuff. We expect more from the Star.
CITY OFFICIALS Who keep promising the beaches will be clean to swim in. They just fail to specify in which millennium.
COMPANIES Who blame slumping business on 9/11 (read the airline industry) and take no responsibility for their own mismanagement. Government bailout packages? Yeah, when the feds pump up EI benefits.
THE THREE AMIGOS On city council who remind us we’re still small-town —
George Mammoliti: One day he wants to trap cats who do their business on lawns, the next he’s off to Africa to save the gorillas. Stick to the potholes in York West, George.
Rob Ford: The rookie councillor’s incoherent right-wing rants make us wonder if he took one too many knocks on the head during his football days — or is that daze?
Doug Holyday: Enough with the penny-pinching so you can get your name in the Toronto Stun, er, Sun.
FEDERATION OF HUNTERS AND ANGLERS: Hicks with a Charlton Heston-like preoccupation with guns. Now they want hunting legislated as a “right” in Ontario. Getting a little too big for their overalls.
ALLAN ROCK: Groovy, savvy and a bud of John Lennon. That’s the way he markets himself. But what about all those sick folk who need medical marijuana but are getting the runaround from bureaucrats in the health department? What if you needed the stuff, Mr. Ambition? Walk the talk.
THE COP IN CORPORATE COMMUNICATIONS who’s felled a forest faxing out inane press releases on everything from graffiti eradication programs — complete with native drummers — to seizures of mysterious jugs of corrosive soap. Don’t waste our time.