Cabbages and kings

Even a casual flip through the collected history of Canada's prime ministers makes it evident that almost the entire lot have been kinda cranky, whatever their public personae. And even a casual flip through the Oxford Big Word Thingy, Canine Edition, shows that we coyotes define "kinda cranky" as, pretty much,"venal, manipulative, backstabbing sonsabitches".

Protestations of the heartwarming benefits of public service aside, I'm not sure what drives people to seek the job. Lately politicians score somewhat below coyotes on measures of public trust. And as long as I'm bloggin', I'll be doing everything I can to keep it that way... I digress. And you're shocked, shocked, I know.

If you know this blog at all, right now you're prolly asking, "Coyote, if they're all kinda cranky, why do you dislike this one, so?" Good question.

I think it might be his attitude. People who are as sure of themselves as Stephen Harper appears to be, seem to me to be lacking a vital bit of humanity. Questioning oneself is a good thing. And in most democracies, compromise, however abhorrent it is to any one high-rankin' individual, pleases more people than does dictatorship by fiat.

A year ago, as the prime minister spouted patent nonsense about coalition governments being unconstitutional, I thought he was just spinning his sound bites for - how to state this delicately? - the dumbshits in his voter base. The ones who get wa-a-a-y too much of their cable edjumafication about government on Foxic News. How could he believe that crap?

Lately, I reach toward a darker thought. That maybe he really is the same kinda dumbshit as his voter base. That he does believe that crap. Maybe in Harper's mind, his election magically turned the prime ministership into an American-style imperial presidency and gave him a rather startling range of powers. Many of which never were foreseen by guys who actually, you know, crafted parliamentary government over the past few hundred years.

So, what if he thinks this makes him a law unto himself and dares the opposition to do anything about it? Well. If ya wanna look back past Canada's parliamentary history, even a, ummm, casual flip through Britain's history suggests that guys who tried to screw over the ascendancy of parliament did not end well.

But hey. If, in deference to the PM's tender feelings, we were to use an American example, the president who most epitomized this kinda thinking was ummm, Dick Nixon. Dear me. That did not end well, either...

Difficult as the concept seems to be for him, personally, the PM may wish to study compromise. It might be on the final exam.

Like clockwork

Some things are as predictable as the seasons. I can tell it's autumn again, because City Councillor "Dog" Thompson, after mostly, ummm, lying doggo all summer, is once again fulminating about the apocalyptic looming infestation of untrammeled coyote hordes in Ottawa's far burbs. Yoohoo! Dog! Us coyotes all live downtown! The restaurants here are less likely to be crummy nationwide chains, and after tony bistros stack their chairs for the night, the cats of Parliament Hill make fine midnight snacks, ummm, excellent conversationalists...

Yet I have to say that I am beginning to become concerned about ol' Dog's persistence. It's like I'm playin' a roadrunner to his, ummm, badly-drawn Wile E, or something. Also worrisome is the fact that he now seems to be trying to bring a provincial cabinet minister onside. You know the jig is up when somebody initiates an investigative committee in the provincial ledge. They could deliver a non-partisan, all-parties proposal to scrutinize me with a legislative task force, in a matter of mere decades.

I am also worried by the increasing proximity of certain winsome wayward wallabies this week. It seems that Wendell, since his big jailbreak, has hopped it all the way from Kemptville to the fringes of Ottawa. How are ya gonna keep him down on the farm, after he's tasted the City That Fun Forgot's wild nightlife? And there have been ominous suggestions from Wendell's erstwhile screws and the Australian wallaby cognoscenti that if cute little Wendell bites it, it'll probably be a coyote that bit him.

People, I swear! It's a setup! I'm bein' framed! Now, excuse me. I have other fish to fry. And where did I misplace that bottle of Tangy Memories of Billabong Sauce...?

Saturday Night Premonition

"You have access to the Internet again!" I mumble loudly in a half awake state.

"What? Did you say something?" asks my sleeping mate waking up startled and confused.

"Oh, sorry, I was dreaming about a group of blogger friends who haven't been blogging recently. We were at our usual spot, and I was standing on the table and yelling at them that they all have Internet access."

My bed mate gives me a bemused look, mutters something in a patronizing voice, rolls over, and goes back to his sonic boom snoring.