Mike Duffy Two Step

November 6, 2013

The Mike Duffy Two StepOne of the most interesting characters in recent Canadian history. Right up there with Rob Ford except he’s more articulate.


Lament to Mr. Harper

Met our Prime Minister in college. 1965. He was trying to get into a frat. I was trying to get a loan. I was 19. He looked 46. He knew exactly what life was about. I’d hardly seen a thing and it was more than enough.

I stood outside his house. Where no one lives. With my arms in the sky. I was drunk and crying. I don’t know any answers. And what no one dares to ask. The future Prime Minister called the cops. And I was left trying to explain why I was making all of this up.

He had diamonds in his eyes. Coal black. Ambition is a hole that is never filled. His eyes were frozen then. And remain still.

Jesus had pockmarks on his cheeks. Too many kisses from his apostles. Erosion of the adored. What happens to these bastards who get so rich. That they’re poor.

Mr. Prime Minister. Wish I could fry an egg. On the future. That you think is so hot.

Stephen Harper grew up in Etobicoke. 5 minutes away by bicycle from my own home. I lived farther south. And about ten years earlier. Most of the people who lived in our area worked in factories. They were basically working class families. Mr. Harper’s area was populated by a wealthier group of people – lawyers, contractors, dentists, and accountants. Middle and upper middle class families. I’ve met young men like Stephen in high school and college. They were serious rather humorless but generally well meaning intelligent young men. Many of my friends would have seemed like political radicals to these young men. They believed in the system. We believed (I’m afraid of admitting) in getting drunk and arguing. They joined. We laughed. And I never trusted them. In those heady days of Vietnam demonstrations and campus politics I believed that if it came down to it, they would have had us lined up against a wall and shot if they felt it was the right thing to do. Removed from those times and older, it all seems rather silly now. No one would have had anyone shot. But listening to and watching Mr. Harper, I can’t understand who he is. And why he suspects us. Of something.

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