A Nation Worth Ranting About

by Rick Mercer

  But I’ve got to say, on my way to work this morning I wasn’t so much concerned about the lack of sunshine and my mood as I was with the two pedestrians I almost ran over. And believe me, the fact that it was just two of them means this was a good day.

  Why did I almost run them over? Well, as I mentioned, it was dark—a fact that seems to be lost on the vast majority of pedestrians this time of year. That, and I swear to God one of them was dressed head to toe in black. Might as well have been wearing a burka or a cloak of invisibility. If it weren’t for the tiny light coming from the cellphone he was texting on in the middle of the street, I would have hit him at forty kilometres an hour.

  And is it just me, or do pedestrians in this country actually slow down when they have to cross the street? I believe they do. Science will back me up on this.

  Now, don’t get me wrong—I’ve been a bad pedestrian. I know that we all have. Just last month, I was texting with my sister, and was halfway through the crosswalk when it dawned on me: I’m in the middle of a busy street, my head is down and I’m texting. If I die in the next five seconds, it’s my own fault. And not only that, but the people I know, the people who love me the most, they will make fun of me, at my funeral, probably via text.

  Now, I don’t know what the solution is here. I’m not a nanny-state guy. I’m not saying everyone’s got to slap on a safety vest when they go to work in the morning. But the average person weighs 150 pounds. A Prius weighs 3,000 pounds, and it’s dark out. Do the math.

  So heads up, Canada. Let’s get through this winter together. Better SAD than sorry.

  TIME TO CLOSE THE COMMONS

  November 29, 2011

  Conservative member of Parliament Rob Anders fell asleep last week, live on national television, right in the middle of Question Period. It was on the news a lot, and people found it funny. Meanwhile, in Toronto last year, some dude whose job it was to sell subway tickets took a nap on the job and it was front-page news. People acted like he was history’s cruellest monster. It was very telling.

  As time marches on, society changes; and with it, traditions die. It’s tough, but someone has to say we’re closing down the buggy-whip factory, or, that’s it, the VCR is going in the garbage. No one wants to be the one to stand up and say the emperor has no clothes, so let me. It’s time to close the House of Commons—permanently. Let’s face it, it’s a soap opera, its ratings are in the toilet and, like all soap operas, it’s filled with bad actors and nobody knows their names.

  The first job of any MP is to hold government accountable for spending our money. They don’t do that anymore. MPs approved fifty million dollars for border security. The Prime Minister took the money and built a hockey rink and a gazebo in Muskoka. And nobody cares! Which is fine. The second job of an MP is to debate bills in Parliament. Those days are over. An agriculture bill in Cuba gets more debate than a Canadian crime bill. And nobody cares, which is fine.

  But if MPs aren’t going to do their jobs and they can’t keep their eyes open long enough to pretend they’re doing their jobs, why send them to Ottawa? Keep them in their ridings. Let them do something useful, like help someone fill out a passport application.

  And for the rest of the country, can we finally acknowledge what everyone in Ottawa knows but no one will say out loud: MPs and cabinet ministers have nothing to do with running this country. This country is run by twenty-three-year-olds who work in the Prime Minister’s Office. They decide what bills are passed; they decide what countries we invade. Let them do their job.

  And the Prime Minister? Well, he can be CEO or Sun God or whatever he wants to be called. He can wear a gold hat. As long as he comes out on a balcony occasionally, waves, goes back in, does his thing, comes out five years later and stands for re-election. But it’s his show and his show only. Let’s stop pretending it’s anything else but. And on that point—there is no debate.

  ON LIBERTY AND BALLS

  December 6, 2011

  I don’t know what’s sadder—that this country woke up a few weeks ago and read the story about a school in Toronto banning the use of soccer balls on the playground, or the fact that deep down, none of us was really surprised.

  I know I wasn’t, because I am familiar with the Vice-Principal Law of Enjoyment, which states that for every instance of a child having fun, there is an equal or slightly more powerful force that exists solely to stop that activity from happening.

  And every generation is different. When I was in Grade 8, my school banned the Rubik’s Cube. Why? Because some kid was wandering down the hall with his head buried in the Rubik’s Cube, went headfirst into a door and split his nose open. And I’m sorry, I remember that kid—he was always walking into doors. In fact, if I bumped into him today, I wouldn’t recognize him without the nosebleed.

  But the school’s rationale was, “Well, we can’t have kids walking around with their heads down,” so they banned the cube. Meanwhile, it is because we wandered around with our heads buried in our Rubik’s Cubes that my generation can safely navigate through traffic on foot with our heads down while texting on our BlackBerries. You could say it saved our lives.

  This is a war on fun. And it is a slippery slope. In 2014—and this is a fact—school clubs in Ontario will no longer be able to fundraise by selling chocolate. Only nutritious items. There’s your future, Canada: a sad child on your doorstep, trying to sell you a bag of radishes so they can go on a band trip.

  Get used to it. Because if you let them take your balls, your freedom is the next to go.

  PRIME MINISTER DAD

  January 17, 2012

  Democracy is very messy. In fact, on paper, it doesn’t even make a heck of a lot of sense. For starters, it involves all of us—and by all of us, I mean the people. And what’s worse, that means it involves people’s opinions, a situation that only leads to debate. And let’s face it, no matter what the issue, for every sensible person on either side, there are two idiots who are addicted to the sound of their own voice. I should know: I’m one of them.

  But speaking of debate, I’ve noticed lately that some of the messy parts of democracy are slowly being done away with. Remember debate? No, neither do I. It’s been a while.

  For example, a couple of months ago, Stephen Harper decided to change the name of the Canadian Navy to the Royal Canadian Navy. There was no debate. He just announced it. Now, personally, I don’t care one way or the other, but people in the navy do. Some of them love it, some of them hate it. But the important thing is, nobody asked for their opinion. Who cares what they think? They just serve in the navy. Who cares what we think? We just pay for it. Nope, Dad said, end of story.

  And now we have this pipeline business. Now, I realize I should have paid more attention to this a year ago, but like a lot of Canadians, I find it’s only showing up on my radar now. And honestly, I don’t know if the pipeline is a good idea or a bad idea. But the good news is, I no longer have to look at both sides. None of us does. No, because Dad has made it perfectly clear, there’s only one side to this issue.

  And anyone who thinks otherwise is an enemy to Canada. I’ve got to say, this is way better than the old days, when we had the burden of being informed citizens on our shoulders. No, now we have a new job: to be seen and not heard. Welcome to Canada 2012. His house, his rules. God save the King.

  With Ace Walker and Rick Forney of the Winnipeg Goldeyes.

  Rick: “Thanks for the lesson. I feel confident tonight. I feel like I’m going to get it over the—what’s it called again?”

  Ace: “The plate …”

  PENSION TENSION

  January 24, 2012

  Something fascinating happened this past week. The Canadian Taxpayers Federation attacked members of Parliament, saying their pensions were platinum plated. And then, among the political pundits, the people who are paid to disagree with one another, peace broke out. They all agreed: slash those pensions.

  Now, I understand the sentiment. When I heard that Pierre P
oilievre, Stephen Harper’s favourite MP of all time, qualified for a full pension at thirty-one, I was physically ill. We have to ask ourselves, “Why did he qualify for a full pension at thirty-one?” Well, for starters, he got elected straight out of school. He had never accomplished anything of any note.

  That’s the type of person that’s getting elected. People who have done nothing but are experts in everything. We avoid those people in real life, but for some reason the House of Commons is crawling with them.

  So, let’s just forget pensions. I want better MPs. I want the best and the brightest that Canada has to offer. And boy, is that not happening. And why? Well, the fact is, if you’re mid-career with a family, leaving both behind and taking off to Ottawa for six or seven years is not good for either of them. There’s a very good chance, at the end of the day, both will be seriously damaged. And are we going to fix this problem and attract better MPs by making the job less desirable? No. We go down that road and for every Pierre Poilievre, there’ll be ten more just like him.

  Now, don’t get me wrong—I like beating up a lousy MP as much as the next guy. But when we get a good MP, they aren’t just worth their pension, they’re worth their weight in gold. All the parties have them, but they are few and far between. So, what say when it comes to MPs, instead of all of us piling on and lowering the bar, let’s aim high for a change.

  THE RACE TO DISENGAGEMENT

  January 31, 2012

  There’s been a lot of talk over the last five years among political geeks about voter suppression. Convincing voters that politics is so nasty that, come election day, people just stay home. Now, up until now, to give them credit, nobody has ever accused the NDP of practising this dark art.

  Well, that has certainly changed, because I don’t think I have ever seen a greater example of voter suppression than the current NDP leadership race. It’s like they designed it to disengage the public. Leadership races are tough on parties, but they’re fun. They expose rifts. They lead to debate. Things are said in the heat of the moment that cause excitement, which makes people care. Not with this crowd.

  As of last count, there were eight different candidates. And I use the term “different” very loosely. Because I don’t know where you could find eight different Canadians who agree on as many things as these people. It’s like the worst dinner party ever.

  I watched the last leadership debate on streaming video. The most exciting moment happened at the forty-minute mark, when I got a pop-up ad for a Liberty coin from the Franklin Mint. And the nastiest exchange so far came when front-runner Brian Topp, whom nobody knows, accused Thomas Mulcair of being—wait for it—a moderate. Whoa—those are fighting words. Can anyone on the left in this country make a fist?

  I would like to say that there’s a fine line between an exciting race and a race that is so dull it is actually detrimental to the democratic process, but there’s not. There’s a huge gaping divide. And unless the NDP can fix this and get people to pay attention, everyone loses. Because if you can’t engage voters, you don’t deserve voters.

  ROOT’N TOOT’N ROB

  February 14, 2012

  The great thing about living in a modern democracy is that it is always changing. And I’ve got to hand it to the party in power: ever since we elected this strong, stable, majority government, we are getting brand new rights every single day.

  Like this past week, the Minister of Justice, Rob Nicholson, stood up and announced, out of the blue, that if someone comes onto your property and you think they might be there to steal your all-terrain vehicle or catch your car on fire, you have the right to pick up a gun and fire warning shots at them.

  Well, thank God that’s cleared up. We all know what it’s like: you look down the bottom of the driveway, you see someone funny. You don’t know what they’re up to. They could be a car burner. Now, I don’t own an all-terrain vehicle, but I do own a barbecue, and I don’t like to brag, but it’s pretty nice. So next time someone comes into my yard—warning shot. And that goes for you, too, Mr. Knocking-on-My-Door-Looking-for-Twenty-Dollars-for-the-Cystic-Fibrosis-Walk-Just-When-I’m-Sitting-Down-to-Dinner. You could be a car burner—warning shot.

  Now, the greatest threat to my life as a city dweller has nothing to do with people stealing my property, and everything to do with some idiot in a four-thousand-pound SUV who does not know how to use a signal light. Be warned: do that again, cut me off without signalling—warning shot. And while we’re at it, people who do not walk in a straight line on the sidewalk, and people who get on an elevator before letting the people inside the elevator off the elevator—warning shots for the lot of you.

  Yes, it’s a brave new world. The Minister of Justice, Canada’s top cop, is saying don’t call the cops—fire at will. If you live across the street, you might want to duck.

  Recreating 1812 at the Fanshawe Pioneer Village, London, Ontario.

  Rick: “So, you have to bite [the tip] off every bullet?”

  Private: “Yep.”

  Rick: “What if you had no teeth? Because that would be authentic.”

  Private: “To be a soldier, it was a requirement to have two teeth: one top, one bottom.”

  Rick: “That was a requirement? That’s the same requirement I have on my eHarmony ad.”

  VIC LIKES TO WATCH

  February 21, 2012

  My guess is if the average citizen were told that they had five minutes left to live and they were alone in their house, a good percentage of Canadians would devote two or three of those last minutes on earth to erasing their hard drives. Not because they’re criminals, but because it might contain something that’s—what’s the expression I’m looking for?—nobody’s business.

  And that includes the Minister of Public Safety, Vic Toews. Now Vic … Vic’s a nice guy, but he’s got this thing. He likes to peek. Or at least, he wants to peek into your hard drive. He wants to be able to get your computer’s IP address without a warrant; he wants all of your computer online traffic recorded. It’s his thing.

  Vic says it’s no big deal—it’s like a phone book. Now, I trust Vic, I do, but I asked a computer geek friend of mine and he says no, it’s nothing like a phone book. In fact, it’s like a fingerprint. Except it’s a fingerprint that can tell Vic how much money you make, what you read, where you get your news, what you say to your best friend, what turns you on and how you vote. Gee, is that all, Vic? Because, um, that makes me uncomfortable.

  Now, Vic says we have a choice to make here. We can side with the Conservatives and let Vic peek, or we can side with the child pornographers. Unfortunately for Vic, he forgot one very important thing: Canadians aren’t that stupid. And thank God. Because, Vic, you can call us all the names you want, but that doesn’t change the fact we’re not going to let you peek. That doesn’t make us criminal; it makes us Canadian. It’s why we shut our blinds at night.

  The state has no business in the hard drives of the nation. You want to peek, Vic? Convince a judge and get a warrant.

  THE BAR SINKS LOWER

  February 28, 2012

  I have always loved politics. Politics has always been my baseball. I love the competition. I love the ideas. I love the brilliance, the pomposity, and the idiocy of some of the great characters who practise the art. And I have always believed it’s an art worth practising.

  Now, I understand, in Canadian politics the bar is very low. Let’s face it: you’ve got to get on your stomach and crawl to fit under there. But there has always been a little bit of sunshine. There’s always been a little bit of light. This past week, I’m not so sure. I’m talking about robocalls.

  We now know that, during the last federal election, hundreds of thousands of calls came out of Edmonton to Liberal and NDP voters in eighteen different ridings, claiming they were coming from Elections Canada, lying, sending people to voting booths that didn’t exist. And what’s really freaking me out is that I’m not angry. Which is a very bad sign, because anger is my cardio. I think I may be disap
pointed. Either that, or I’m having a stroke.

  Now, I understand, in politics, there have always been dirty tricks. But this is not some drunks tearing down some posters. This is not even a negative ad campaign. This is big money and technology targeting people who want to vote and trying to physically stop them. We can’t have this.

  You put ten Canadians in a room, and they will disagree on ten things. Fine. But we have always agreed that voting is a fundamental right. This is not a left or right thing. This is just a thing. If we don’t believe in that, what else do we have to believe in?

  If stopping people who want to vote from doing so becomes the new normal, we will have hit a new low in the sewer that is Canadian politics. Keep this up, and we’ll need a snorkel to get under that bar. Any deeper, and we all drown.

  WHO’S THE GUILTY PARTY?

  March 20, 2012

  Like everyone else in Canada, I’m being worn down by this robocall scandal. It is as nasty as anything we have ever seen in Canadian politics. But like everyone else raised on episodes of Law and Order, I like my crimes discovered, investigated and solved within fifty-five minutes. No such luck.

  Instead, week after week in the House of Commons, we’re subjected to all the parties standing up and accusing all the other parties of destroying the democratic process. It’s nauseating. When Dean Del Mastro opens his mouth, I want to punch myself in the face. I wouldn’t be surprised if he stands up and blames my mother next.

  But the truth is, for all the grandstanding, none of the MPs actually know what happened in the last election. They’re MPs—the people who run the campaigns tell them nothing. You ask any MP, off the record, about what happened in the last election, and all you’re told is, “I hope it wasn’t us.”