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“ People are frustrated by the apparent lack of any plan to deal with the deficit.”
Newly installed Tory leader John Tory shows pretty big balls on his first day in the legislature, attacking the Liberals for a monster debt run up by his own party while it heartlessly cut services.
This Bud’s for you
Toronto’s got a new team, the Maple Leafs-owned American Hockey League squad with the old-school name the Marlies. A transplanted Leaf farm team from St. John’s, the squad’s sports behemoth owners also considered naming them the Buds – little Leafs, get it? We came this close to having two pro teams in town named the Jays and the Buds. Could a switch by another Leafs-owned team, the barely-on-the-radar Raptors, to the Reefers have been far behind?
More Senate stupidity
Complaining about the quality of the Senate is like squawking about the nutritional value of fast food – what the hell were you expecting? But increasingly laughable Prime Minister Paul Martin’s latest appointments firmly put the “ass” in “royal assent.” Disgraced ousted defence minister Art Eggleton wasn’t good enough to face the voters in the last election, but pal Paul is giving the world’s most unlikely Lothario a juicy income for life despite a controversial career that crashed because he handed consulting cash to a one-time bedmate. Just one more reason to dump this expensive, absurdly undemocratic Canadian joke. The Senate, that is.
Silly super-sizing songs
The evil geniuses at McDonald’s have somehow manufactured a sales rebound for the much-maligned chow. Now it’s trying for product placement in hiphop songs. Mickey Dee’s is offering big bucks to urban artists for mention of their nutritional nightmare in top-selling songs. But the McDonald’s folks miss the point: hiphop meisters rhyme about upmarket stuff, things people aspire to own, like Courvoisier, Caddies and Gucci. Soggy sandwiches just don’t fit the bill.
Conrad’s deniability derby
The latest magazine to issue a grovelling, ass-sucking apology to Lord Fooforah of Fountleroy, Montague Black’s li’l brother Conrad, is Kenny Whyte’s waiting-room recycling bin filler, Maclean’s. Still free to use his lawyers to pursue libel actions rather than, er, other, er, alleged things, Lord Suesalot managed to get the mag to beg for forgiveness for “any imputation of criminal wrongdoing on the part of Conrad Black.” “I’m not a crook,” indeed.
