| Pure Politics |
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| an event so apocalyptic that the nation will be shaken to its very foundations |
You know it has to happen sometime. Like what, you ask? A giant asteroid will slam into the Parliament buildings in Ottawa and wake up half the Senate? There will be a people-wash at the ferry terminal in North Sydney to make sure mainlanders coming to Newfoundland are clean? Roman Catholics and Pentecostals will have their own separate school systems? Nope to all of the above. What we are talking about here is an event so apocalyptic that the nation will be shaken to its very foundations. I’m shaking now just thinking about it. Brian Tobin will become prime minister of Canada. The signs and wonders are all around us. Doomsday has been forecast with far less evidence. Anyone who ran out and bought a life-jacket in August — and that’s most of the population of the St. John’s Metropolitan Area — will surely be swayed by the omens already appearing. Toronto had the biggest snowfall in its history last weekend. Jesse “The Body” Ventura, a professional wrestler in the lowest sense of that term, has just been elected governor of one of the United States. ‘Tress been,’ indeed And if that weren’t enough, anyone with an ear for linguistics at all would catch a faint hint of the Quebec language (which isn’t at all the same as the French language) in Brother Tobin’s speech. We all know that in order to be prime minister of this great land one must be fluent in Quebecese. I thought that it was a dead giveaway when, after being asked how he was feeling on an open line show, Mr. Tobin replied, “tress been, tress been, monsewer.” I admit that I am not the first Wise Man to travel under this particular star. Others have spoken of The Event in hushed tones ever since Brian slapped down the Spaniards in the baby turbot fiasco. And he did it without George Baker’s help. Not that Mr. Baker wouldn’t have helped had he been asked. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t, so there. Brian, like Alexander the Great, wasn’t about to share his glory with anyone.
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| It is unlikely that a Newfoundlander being made first minister will be noticed by anyone anywhere west of Cape Breton. | By the way, Mr. Premier Sir, although I have not had the pleasure of knowing you very well, I keep telling people that I’m on a first name basis with you. I hope you don’t mind. You may call me Ed. Since the sparkling wit and satire in “The View” is now being enjoyed by tens of thousands of North Americans outside our own little province, I must state the obvious: previous few of these thousands know or care about anything that happens on the Rock. It is thus unlikely that a Newfoundlander being made first minister will be noticed by anyone anywhere west of Cape Breton. I must, therefore, give you something to look for as proof that the inevitable has already happened. The first thing you may see is a bunch of shepherds running around shouting “Hallelujah.” OK, sorry. I’ll get serious. The first thing that will happen is that all mainlanders will be required to make a pilgrimage to Newfoundland at least once every five years and be further required to spend at least $5,000 during their stay. Some things will change | Will he will make a good prime minister. Is a frog’s bum watertight? After Brian’s anointing, we will no longer be known as the 10th province. In fact, it will be an indictable offence to refer to us as anything other than the first province. Anyone uttering the words “stupid Newf” will be exiled to the Funks forever, or until they die, whichever comes first. The religious edict that it is OK to eat meat on Fridays will be rescinded and in fact expanded to include Protestants and Anglicans. It will be replaced with a dictum which says that fish must be eaten every second day, not counting Fridays. | All of this, of course, begs the question of whether or not Brother Brian wants to become prime minister. Does Andy Wells have a townie accent? Has Art Reid put his foot in his mouth? Yes. Yes. Yes. You may without fear of contradiction echo a parody of that old song, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes” to all of the above. | An equally important question is whether or not he will make a good prime minister. Is a frog’s bum watertight? Does Lynn Verge, bless her heart, have teeth? And will other Canadians accept Brian Tobin for this high office? I tell you that the highway from North Sydney to Ottawa will be covered with palm leaves, or a reasonable facsimile, as Brian rides into town upon his ass. What they’ll do with the ass after Brian is finished with it is anyone’s guess. Perhaps the RCMP will want to include it in their musical ride. On second thought, Brian will probably be so interested in protecting his ass that he may want to keep it in Ottawa. | You want me to get really serious here? I predict without aid of signs and wonders at all that our wily premier will call a spring or summer election to give his party another four years in power. He will then resign as premier to run in the federal Liberal leadership convention which will be held sometime during the year 2000. I further predict that he will win that race and become the Sir John A. Macdonald of the third millennium. He who hath ears to hear, let him hear. |
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