But like, for reals.
I have decided to run for Governor-General of Canada.
Not that I’m less uppity than Payette; quite the opposite. I will, without question, be the first GG in history to drop an F bomb in a throne speech. I’ll need a whole staff dedicated to preventing me from calling for firing squads on Twitter several times a day. And a fat lot of good it’s been doing anyway. You people never listen. Not to mention I’m a stone cold lefty and will just Nationalize All The Things if they leave me alone with Justin Trudeau’s laptop for fifteen minutes.
I mean, have you SEEN my About page (pictured above, no, really)?
Now, I know that these things are appointed, rather than voted on, but what have I got to lose? I’m currently unemployed, journalism having retracted like a hand that reached out in the darkness and accidentally touched Donald Trump, and the dog-sitting business having undergone something of a critical constriction due to that “Nobody except Conservative party lifers can go on pleasure jaunts” thing. For reasons unknown, this Communal Anarchist does not have a wide acquaintance among the Tories other than blood relatives who currently are not speaking to me for fear I’ll mention Q and say “I told you so!”
Which I totally will do, every single chance I get.
I also know that the GG does not have a “platform” per se, but have gone ahead and created one, in the interest of saving everyone time, and also to show off that I’m not afraid to do a little hard work now and again. Though I wouldn’t want it to become a habit.
I have also done outreach for some key positions. Vermin Supreme will be my Grand Vizier (he has agreed, or at least he’s retweeting it every time I mention him, which I’m taking as consent). We shall change his name to Vermine Supreme, just to annoy the Americans. This will strengthen our relationship with the UK, as there is nothing Boris likes so much as pointless pretension (did he tell you he went to Eton? Don’t worry, he will).
Zap Rowsdower will take over as Captain of the Guard, Polo Stick In Waiting, or whatever they’re calling it these days. Heck, we could make him Chief Beer Tester. He just strikes me as the kinda guy you want to have on your side in case it all goes Mad Max.
This guy can be my deputy:
- There will be a pony for each Canadian who wants one. Vizier Vermine Supreme will oversee this program, of course.
- The Pony Support Allowance will ensure the economic security of equine-Canadians.
- We will reinstate the Special Relationship with Narnia and exchange ambassadors, and GOD I hope they send us a flying horse this time! We can send them…oh, kd lang? I bet she’d like Narnia.
- There will be no single National Drink, because gin is better in the summer and whiskey in the winter, and my Canada includes all cocktails. Further to that point:
- We will have mandated #BeverageDiversity in all federal facilities.
- Rideau Hall and the Parliament Buildings will go off the grid, with wind turbines and solar panels.
- The grounds at Rideau Hall will be converted to permaculture, with the re-introduction of goats, chickens, a couple of nice hunters, and maybe a Jersey cow. There will be sheep (not talking about the obsequious here, for once: actual sheep)
- The Governor-General’s Levee will be reinstated, and will be combined with Sheep Dipping Day. The kids’ll love it!
- The washrooms in Parliament will be converted to composting toilets. Because Parliament is the largest source of horseshit in the country, we will then be able to supply all Canadians with sufficient compost to grow their own food, significantly reducing the cost of living.
- Hats will come back.
- Anthracite will be the New Black.
- Additional points added in the Vice Regal Covid Briefing Bingo post.
I will, naturally, and without a millisecond’s hesitation, move into Rideau Hall. Like, just try and stop me. Of course I’ll miss the way The Roommate’s audible methane explosions punctuate my Zoom calls, to say nothing of the aromas, but time heals all wounds, so they say. Perhaps it will one day heal the memory, but I digress.
I will absolutely dust off the stables at Rideau Hall and also at Parliament, and will be making my commute each day via horseback. A Mountie horse would be nice; they do get rid of the ones that don’t meet the colour or height standards, and those would do me just fine, me being hobbit-like of stature although quite impressive once I’m aboard something bigger than myself. If I get my own Horse Guard, surely I’m entitled to my own horse, no?
My carbon footprint will be NEGATIVE, and even Greta will be impressed, to say nothing of the sudden influx of job openings for street sweepers to handle shoveling the manure. Former parliamentarians are particularly encouraged to apply, as they have directly relevant experience. Think of it as a rehabilitation program, before they’re re-integrated into respectable society.
Should science eventually evolve to the point towards which I have been pushing it lo these many decades, I will humbly set aside the horses in favour of the chariot pulled by woolly mammoths for which I have been advocating all these years. Come on, Sciencey-People! What’s taking you so long?
Okay, now, who wants to help me get my French up to par for the job? That was Payette’s mistake, you know: swearing at people in languages they could understand. Me, I learned long ago from a very nice woman I suspected of being a CIA agent: in Europe, talk to one another in Thai; in Asia, use German.
Not that I speak either Thai or German, but I do have a nice line in Bahasa Indonesia swear words that should see me through any eventuality other than, say, swearing at the Indonesian ambassador, which I almost certainly wouldn’t do, because everyone from that country that I’ve met has been almost as nutty as me, and we gotta stick together. Not to mention I wanna stay on his good side because who doesn’t want to be invited to Rijsttafel?
So, okay, I’m refreshing Monster.com and just not seeing the posting. Guess they’re still working on the job description, eh? Bloody typical Ottawa! Can’t get a goddamn thing done on a weekday after 4pm, the assholes.
Oh, shit. That didn’t last long.