by Rick Mercer
And then we find out that hidden inside this tough, cost-cutting budget is an extra $13 million a year for the Prime Minister’s own Privy Council Office. That’s an extra quarter of a million dollars a week for the PMO. Talk about your sacrifices.
And then there’s the ongoing Helena Guergis saga, which I don’t understand. I mean, does she have pictures of the Prime Minister in a dress or something? This is a prime minister who has spent millions of dollars collecting stupid things his enemies have said and then mailing them out all over Canada, and yet Helena Guergis screams that Prince Edward Island is a hellhole at the top of her lungs and that’s just fine with him. And then she doesn’t even apologize. She releases a written statement. Try that one, kids. Next time your parents tell you to apologize for something, don’t do it in person, no, just have someone type something up and then fax it over in the morning.
Actually, don’t bother—it won’t work. Unless you’re a cabinet minister or you’re married to one, and then normal rules don’t apply.
As always, if you want to get away with something in this country, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know in the PMO.
WEBCAM ’EM
March 23, 2010
Canada’s twenty-second prime minister, Stephen Harper, did something truly historic this past week. He did something that no Canadian prime minister had ever done before. He went on YouTube and answered questions.
Now, granted, by YouTube standards he’s not as popular as, say, a cat that can flush the toilet, but the fact is he embraced the new media, and for that he should be commended. Because I believe now, more than ever, that it is the Internet that can help save Canadian democracy. And it needs saving. And not from any outside forces, but from the people we have so tragically elected. Because believe me, they’re out of control.
Kids on field trips go into Question Period, having learned in school that democracy is something worth dying for. They leave an hour later convinced that blithering idiots rule the world. And can you blame them? Anyone who has watched Question Period live knows the evidence is on display. The problem is, Canadians at home can’t see that, because all of the bad behaviour is hidden off camera. And the solution is webcams. Regular, old-fashioned webcams, the same kind of webcams that many of our younger members of Parliament, like Pierre Poilievre or Jason Kenney, probably have in their homes. There should be one on every desk in the House of Commons. And the minute that place opens up, those cameras should be on.
And we should be able to go online, click and watch our member of Parliament. You know, kind of like a fancy baby monitor. If they’re missing in action, like Michael Ignatieff was all last week, we should be able to stare at the empty seat and come to our own conclusions. If they want to sit there and twitter about who’s wearing what, like Lisa Raitt, or just sit there and bark like a rabid dog, like John Baird does when he’s in a good mood, we should be able to watch that, too.
Believe me, after one week of webcamming, they will be on their best behaviour. And who knows, maybe something might even get done.
Because nothing inspires a politician to greatness like a good old-fashioned shaming.
Volunteering at the Humane Society, Charlottetown, P.E.I.
Rick: “I actually have fond memories of being dewormed as a child.
Seriously. The kids’d all be lined up, and everyone’d have to drink worm medicine. And it was orange-flavoured. And because my parents didn’t allow pop in the house, it was a treat.”
GOING NOWHERE
September 21, 2010
Parliament opened yesterday. Now, in show business, after opening night, that’s when you sit back, you take stock, you figure out where we’re going to go from here. And looking at this Parliament, thus far, my guess is: nowhere.
None of our political leaders want this Parliament to work. Which is a good thing to know, because that way, when you see them stand up and say they want this Parliament to work, you can judge for yourself how good they are at lying. And speaking of lying, can we please dispel some of the myths that are floating around out there? Can we please stop saying that Michael Ignatieff’s Liberal express was a smashing success? Yes, we know, he got on a bus, he went from A to B, he shook some hands, he went to a picnic, he didn’t screw up. To hear the Liberals talk about it, you’d swear he should be awarded the Victoria Cross. That’s where the bar is for the Liberals right now. He got on a bus all by himself. Most of us did that in kindergarten.
And after this summer, can we please finally stop saying Stephen Harper is a tactical genius? I mean, the guy disappeared for huge periods of time—at one point he went thirty-eight days without being seen in public or answering a single question. I have dead relatives who communicate more than that. And then, when he did come out of the basement, he only did it long enough to abolish the long-form census. Which is genius—if you’re running for the leadership of the Flat Earth Society.
So I guess you could say, looking at this Parliament, I’m in a glass-half-empty kind of mood. Right now, I’m just looking for a leader, any leader at all, who will tell the truth, pull the trigger and send us to the polls. Because I don’t want an election, I want a whole new cast.
DIVIDE AND CONQUER
September 28, 2010
We’ve always had big rivalries in this country—always have, always will. French vs. English. East vs. west. Rural vs. urban. Leafs-Habs. Leafs-Sens.
And then, of course, there are your local skirmishes. Heck, you talk to someone from Alberta, you would swear that the rivalry between Calgary and Edmonton is more intense than the one between the Klingons and Starfleet.
Of course, sensible people don’t take this stuff too seriously. And I know there are people who do. It is an unfortunate fact of life that, in this country, there are people who like nothing better than to pass judgment on other people based on where they live. And there’s a name for those people: idiots. If you think “from Calgary” is an insult, you’re an idiot. If you think “from Wadena, Saskatchewan” or “from Ottawa” is an insult, you’re an idiot. And if you think “from Toronto” is an insult—well, then, you’re John Baird.
The difference being, John Baird is not just another angry little man with an axe to grind. No, he’s also one of the most powerful cabinet ministers in the country. And clearly, he’s taking his lead from our Prime Minister. Last week, after the long-gun registry vote, we were a country divided. Did the Prime Minister come out and say, “Okay, we’ve got to figure this thing out. We need to work together. We need compromise on both sides”? No. Instead, he went on the news and said, “The people of the regions of Canada will not stand for this.” What does that even mean? Last time I checked, we all lived in a region of Canada.
That’s what we are. We are a nation of regions. Why is our Prime Minister, on the news, saying out loud that we will not stand for one another? It’s called nation-building, Prime Minister. First you should say it, then you should try it. Because the regions of Canada are not like government employees. You can’t just declare war on some of them because you don’t like their opinions.
DON’T WORRY ABOUT HARPER
October 5, 2010
It seems to me that the media is a little too obsessed with how controlling Stephen Harper is. I don’t really get this debate. I mean, can we blame the Conservatives for wanting this in a leader? A man who is firmly in control? Because Stephen Harper’s all that and a bag of chips. And his idea to scrap the long-form census is a perfect example of his abilities.
Scrapping the long-form census has never been an issue among Conservatives. No, this idea, just like rewriting “O Canada,” is Stephen Harper’s baby. Talk to anyone close to the guy and they will tell you that every now and then, he gets in a funny mood and comes up with his funny ideas.
He just woke up one morning out of the blue and said to his best people, “Hey, what would happen if we scrapped the long-form census and went to a voluntary survey?” And they all said the same thing. “Well, the da
ta will be worthless, scientists will go crazy, business leaders will freak out, and plus, it will cost an extra $30 million.”
And Harper said, “Thirty million dollars? I’m sold!” And then he walked into caucus and said, “Hey, I’m gonna spend $30 million in the middle of a recession getting less-reliable data. Who’s with me?” To which 143 Tory MPs started clapping. Again, that is a testament to his abilities. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get 143 seals to do the same thing simultaneously? He’s more than a prime minister, he’s like Siegfried and Roy all wrapped up in one.
The difference being, of course, that no matter how many tricks he makes them do, none of his MPs will ever make a peep. So let’s stop this debate about how controlling Stephen Harper is. We know what he’s made of. It’s his MPs I worry about.
Rick installs solar panels with Mike Holmes in Oshawa, Ontario.
Mike: “Good job.”
Rick: “Now we’re cooking with gas. Well, not. Solar. But you know what I mean.”
JAMIE HUBLEY’S suicide touched so many people.
Like everyone, I was shocked and dismayed by the news. And then I ranted—of course. Here is that piece again, followed by some reflections on the extraordinary response when it aired.
Let’s hope Jamie Hubley’s legacy will be that he sparked a national discussion about bullying in schools, and helped to make any kid who feels different feel safer.
MAKE IT BETTER NOW
October 25, 2011
Every year in this country, three hundred kids take their own lives. It is a mind-boggling number. And this past week, one of those kids was Jamie Hubley. He was fifteen, he was depressed and he happened to be gay.
And because this is 2011, we don’t just read about a kid like Jamie. We can Google him, and then the next thing you know, you’re sitting at home watching his videos on YouTube. And he was gay, all right. He was a great, big goofy gay kid singing Lady Gaga on the Internet. And as an adult, you look at that and you go, You know what? That kid’s going places. But for some reason, some kids, they looked at that and they attacked. And now he’s gone.
And because this story is all too familiar, we know exactly what’s going to happen next. Grief counsellors will go into the school, as they should. But what about the old-fashioned assembly? You know, where the cops show up and there’s hell to pay and they find out who’s responsible. You know, like when the lunchroom is vandalized. Because the kids who bullied this boy, they know who they are. And more importantly, other kids know who they are.
It’s no longer good enough for us to tell kids who are different that it’s going to get better. We have to make it better now. That’s every single one of us. Every teacher, every student, every adult has to step up to the plate.
And that’s gay adults, too. Because I know gay cops, soldiers, athletes, cabinet ministers—a lot of us do—but the problem is, adults, we don’t need role models. Kids do. So if you’re gay and you’re in public life, I’m sorry, you don’t have to run around with a pride flag and bore the hell out of everyone, but you can’t be invisible either.
Not anymore. Three hundred kids is three hundred too many.
ON OCTOBER 15, 2011, Jamie Hubley committed suicide. When I heard the news, I wrote the rant that’s reprinted here. It went viral, as they say. Within twenty-four hours, it was being bounced around the world and hundreds of thousands of people were viewing it and sharing it, proving that the issue of gay kids being bullied in schools is tragically universal.
In Australia, it was posted on a popular message board and elicited comments such as “I like this guy’s commentary, but if he ever does a second one he should stop walking around in that alley and stand still.”
In the United States, it ended up getting tens of thousands of views when it appeared on the popular gay website Qweerty under the headline “Obscure Canadian makes vague but valid point on LGBT suicides.”
You can never control what is going to go viral, though there are some unmistakable trends. Until the rant about bullying, my two biggest Internet hits from the show featured baby bears in Algonquin Park and Mississauga mayor Hazel McCallion in a bowling alley. Cute baby animals and overachieving senior citizens are universally loved.
If, however, I could have chosen one rant to go viral, it would be the one written for Jamie.
This rant was a big departure for me. While not all my rants are funny—as readers of this book can attest—I usually try to be at least mildly amusing. With this rant, there was no such attempt.
When I heard about Jamie’s death, I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. The last thing I wanted to do was write a rant—I wanted to break something. I wanted to punch someone. Fortunately, though, I have very weak arms, the feeling passed, and in the end I ranted.
I don’t think that my reaction to Jamie’s death was different from most people’s. Anyone with a modicum of mental health would find the entire situation tragic and disheartening. The fact that Jamie was gay and I am gay just gave me a different perspective.
Jamie Hubley was out of the closet in high school. That’s something I never even contemplated doing when I was in school. Of course, my excuse is that I was a teenager in the olden days. In my day, there was no Internet and there were no gay storylines on TV. We didn’t have a gay-straight alliance; all we had was the drama club, which in hindsight is almost the same thing.
But the truth is, I wasn’t out in high school because I wasn’t as brave as Jamie Hubley. He was the only out kid in his school. I could have been that guy, but I wasn’t strong enough. He was a better man than I.
But the fact that a young man as brave as Jamie felt so helpless was a terrible reminder that there is a constituency out there that gay adults need to pay attention to. High school was a long time ago and, like most people, I found that once that building was out of sight, it quickly went out of mind.
And because there were no “out kids” when I was in school, I never really thought about the ones that must be there now, let alone what issues they might face. For my entire adult life, “gay issues” were issues that primarily affected gay adults. Issues such as HIV and AIDS, or equality rights in the workplace. Gay students simply weren’t on my radar.
Now, just to be clear: when it comes to whether or not a kid should come out in school, I have no idea what the answer is. Part of me wants to say to a gay kid on the first day of high school, “Look, school is bad enough no matter who or what you are, so put your head down, study hard, move forward, wait for the bell to ring, repeat 672 times, graduate, move to the big city and be a big, happy homo. It will work out, I promise. It gets better.” Hardly inspiring words, but that’s how my generation did it. Also, this doesn’t help the kids who don’t have the luxury of choosing when and where they come out of the closet. I’m referring to those fabulous homosexuals who can be spotted at two thousand feet. These kids have the roughest time in school; they are preyed upon by bullies and targeted for being gay before they have figured it out for themselves. Of course, after leaving school, they become much sought after because they are usually brilliant and interesting and fun to be around. Which is little consolation to a budding queen who finds himself in Grade 10 with three more years of public school to look forward to.
Now, I’m not a child psychologist, although I have played one on TV. I don’t know what the solution is, though I am sure there are no silver bullets. But I do know from personal experience that for a gay kid, visible gay adults make a difference.
Gays and lesbians are unique minorities because they are usually a minority of one. If you are hassled at school for being Muslim, at least when you go home in the evening, your family is there and they are Muslim too. If you are hassled because you are short, tall, fat, or are even a little, tiny bit different, there generally are other kids in the same boat. Even if you play oboe in school, there’s probably another oboe player in the band you can commiserate with, someone you can hang out with and tell each other that it gets bette
r. (For oboe players, sadly, it doesn’t really get better.) A gay kid always thinks he or she is the only one.
I know I was convinced I was the only gay kid in my school. Turns out I was wrong; the class of 1989 at Prince of Wales Collegiate has more than its fair share. We just had no way of finding each other. When I found out Bill Parsons was gay, I almost passed out. We were rivals on the same student newspaper. If we knew then what we know about each other now, God knows what trouble we could have caused.
Despite this, I actually had a pretty good time in school. I was never bullied. I dealt with being gay by not dealing with it. Probably not the healthiest choice, but it’s the one I went with. I figured I would cross the bridge when I got to it, and for me that meant I would deal with it when I was no longer required to be in a building with eight hundred people every day, a hundred of whom seemed hell-bent on destroying anyone who stood out as different. I also had the added luxury of knowing in my heart of hearts that while my family might be disappointed or upset or confused, they would under no circumstances do anything drastic, like disown me or stop laughing at my jokes.
And while I felt I was alone and I didn’t know any gay people personally, there was one very visible gay person I was aware of.
I can remember the moment in Grade 10 when I found out. I was standing on Larkhall Street in St. John’s, Newfoundland, when my friend Andrew pointed at a house across from his parents’ and said, “Karl Wells lives there. He’s married to a dude. They were at Mom’s last night for a potluck.”
This qualified as stunning news. There wasn’t a man, woman or child in Newfoundland and Labrador who didn’t know Karl Wells. He was the weatherman on the CBC evening news; but he was much more than just a weatherman, he was a bona fide celebrity—some could say a superstar. He was perhaps the most recognizable face in the province. We take weather seriously in Newfoundland, and it was being delivered by a guy who was married to a dude.
