News of the World - Liberal job creation program of digging holes, falling into them, blaming Harper and refilling them a huge success!

Not totally true, but pretty close.

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“Count on stupid vibe voters and short memories. Use the George Constanza opposite religion—dress it up in a nice suit and good vibes. This will win you an election in Canada.”

This morsel was found scrawled on the back of a three hundred dollar lunch receipt on the Prime Minister’s Press Plane.

Word in the press gallery says it looks like a bitter Justin Trudeau’s doing; the document was crusty with salty tears and broke in half when a triumphant Pierre Polilievre tried to wave it in front of a gaggle of CBC reporters.

He said that Justin Trudeau, tired of talking to his dog and deprived of the joy of being photographed waving happily to baggage handlers as he descended from his private plane, leaked the top-secret Liberal election strategy documents.

The leak reveals a campaign birthed by the Mark Carney Liberals, so bloated with unintended irony it could collapse under its hubris in the shallow end of the Rideau Canal.

This is from a gang that’s treated the economy like a rented mule and now pretends to be its loving owner.

A party that’s spent years digging economic craters, spraining the nation’s fiscal ankles, now swaggering forth with a pledge so audacious it’s almost admirable—“We’ll fix all the cock-ups we orchestrated, terribly sorry about the mess, but trust us, we’ve learned our lesson.”

The Liberal’s secret weapon has always been shamelessness.¹

The Liberal party is like a raccoon that tore through your kitchen at 3 AM, knocked over the fridge, took a shit in the sink, set the curtains on fire, and then—after a quick change of fur—waltzed back in wearing a little bow tie, blaming it on Masha, the cat.

And Boomer voters go, “damn that Masha.”

“Sounds reasonable”, say baby boomer voters in New Brunswick.

And then the Liberal raccoon says, “Carn-knee!” like it’s casting a Harry Potter spell, and everyone forgets the flaming curtains, the sink-shit, and the raccoon-sized hole in the drywall.

It’s as if they’ve nicked George Costanza’s Opposite Day playbook, vowing to undo every blunder they’ve inflicted on the economy, foreign relations, nine ridings manipulated by the Chinese, but God knows if you hold a commission, hire your mum to write the report and take six months to write it, and then just release some milquetoast, “it’s a complete cock up but it was a collective failure”- modern code for ‘forget about it,’ you are probably not quite forgiven but for sure you will be forgotten.

Absolutely.

And doesn’t our man Mark look smashing in a suit? He lived in Enga-land I heard.

One might surmise that a prime minister’s gig shouldn’t be an entry-level lark, but it worked down south; oh, never mind, sorry.

Yet here we are, gawping at a masterclass in contradiction where blame’s never quite admitted, just wafted away with a charming grin and a tailored lapel.

The Grand Mea Culpa That Is Always Taking Off but Never Lands

Trudeau’s Liberals have governed like dramatists on bad acid — staging a fiscal comedy where every laugh costs a billion. Now they wheel out Mark Carney, the global banker whose fool’s gold glow faded somewhere over the Atlantic, to act as a saviour of a disaster they engineered with glee and denial.

Their pitch?

“We’ll fill in all those holes we dug in your backyard. I'm sorry about the economy and the broken ankles, but a raccoon dug the holes.”

It is all “mistakes were made,” passive voice dripping like maple syrup over a stack of excuses.

The economy’s a shambles—housing prices soaring past the moon, inflation nibbling at your wallet like a rabid beaver—but don’t fret, they’ve learned!

Foreign relations?

A masterclass in grovelling to everyone while pleasing no one—wholly shit China, we allowed you to manage more MPs than Elizabeth May could ever get, even if she sobered up.

But China is still not happy, they are telling us that our Canola is full of cockroach shit again?

But the Liberals put a 100% tarriff on Chinese EVs because they are better than American ones and they might be sold here and people would stop burning so much fuel. Hey, I thought we wanted to lower temperatures. Confused.

But it’s easy to sacrifice Alberta farmers for Ontario auto sector voters.

China’s miffed, the Yanks are baffled, and NATO is ordering us McNuggets so we can get something to eat at the kiddy table, and they promise to stop walking around with Nerf guns and going, “Look at me. I’m Canadian. We won a hockey game.”

Canada's military purchases all its kit at garage sales and buys food from kind strangers when it travels, shoplifts. Soldiers can also chew on the standard military “The Joys of Intermittent Fasting " pamphlets slicked up with butter.

Our real secret military weapon is sanctimony, so as Ivan clammers over the ice floe, we will stand bold and proud with our hunting rifles.

We hope to keep asking him what his pronouns are long enough for the Americans to show up.

And please stop applying that impossible “do they float” standard to our navy—it sounds so American; remember, we are better than them, but we are never sure why.

Okay, our icebreakers only work in summer or when there isn’t actual ice. We can’t afford any better. Our efficiency in the Canada Revenue Agency dropped 40%, so we need to hire 40% more employees.

Isn’t that how management works?

Did we tell you we aren’t American?

Healthcare? Queues longer than a Dickens novel, but they’ll sort it.

The Liberals have made the Emperor’s New Clothes an election strategy. But the press and most of the public aren’t paying attention, and anyone who wonders who all the naked, flabby people running around killing our sex drive can be shut up by calling them Trumpy or extreme right-wing.

There is no other flavour of the right-wing these days.

The Opposite Religion: Costanza Meets Carney

Perhaps they’ve taken a leaf from Seinfeld’s George Costanza—everything they’ve touched has turned to absolute rubbish, so why not pledge the opposite?

“We’ve hopelessly buggered the economy—house prices up 50% since 2015, wages flatter than a prairie pancake—so we’ll do the reverse!

Foreign relations a bin fire—Trump called us weak. Xi’s got us on speed dial for apologies—we’ll be tough now, honest!

Healthcare’s a waiting game; MAID isn’t the cleaning person no one can afford, but an early life exit door for the terminally ill, depressed, having a bad day folks with patients croaking before seeing an expensive, non-existent doctor—so we’ll speed it up!

Tres bien Quebec, you are leading the world with almost 7% of your deaths exiting through the la porte de la mort.

The military’s a joke—even Zebra Mussels ignore our subs.

Sorry, they chirp, with that sheepish grin that says, “We’re not really to blame, are we?” It’s a campaign of such delicious contradiction you’d laugh if it weren’t your tax dollars they’ve been torching.

And doesn’t Mark look dapper in his suit? A man who’s never pumped his gas gliding in to save the day with a pleasant vibe. A man whose carbon footprint is a hundred times rubes like us has no problem trashing the economy to lower the temperature by .01 C.

But don’t worry; there is an inverse relationship between climate change sanctimony and personal commitment to reducing fossil fuel usage.

The Secret Document Reveals:

That leaked Liberal memo titled:

“Operation Suit Guy: The Carney Gambit”

“Let’s just put a white guy who looks good in a suit—don’t worry if he’s more of an enviro wackjob than Guilbeault; he’s got that pleasant vibe. Don’t fret if he screwed everything he touched in England—voters never read, have memories like goldfish, and think they’re clever despite vibe-voting, or as we pros call it, ‘being uninformed idiots.’

He’s our ticket to another four years of another rich dude who thinks Canadian Tire is a tire store.”

Oh, the candour! Mark’s Bank of England stint? A mixed bag—Brexit prep was a slog, interest rates a yawn, and his green crusade left some muttering he’d gone full swampy. Facts? Inflation hit 2.6% under his watch in 2012, hardly a disaster, but his eco-zeal saw him dubbed “the climate czar” while businesses grumbled.²

Canadians won’t dig that deep; they’ll see the suit, feel the vibe, and nod like bobbleheads.

The Vibe Vote: Goldfish Memories and Broken Ankles

Let’s talk voters, shall we? The Liberals are banking on Canadians being a tad dim—bless their maple-soaked hearts.

The Liberal's profane lullaby,

“We screwed everything up, sorry, but we learn from our mistakes,” they coo, assuming the electorate’s memory lasts about as long as a goldfish’s—three seconds, tops. Hey look a castle!

Never Admitting, Always Pivoting

Here’s the genius: we are a nation where everything goes wrong, but there is generally never any blame. That would be rude.

It’s “we’ll fix all the mistakes”—but who made ‘em?

The economy’s potholes? It must’ve been Harper’s ghost, not our eight years of spendthrift shenanigans—debt-to-GDP up from 31% to 47% since 2015.⁷ The best of our provinces are as rich as poor American hillbilly states.

Are foreign relations a farce? Blame Trump, Putin, anyone but our limp handshakes.

Healthcare’s collapse? Pesky provinces, not our funding fumbles—hospital budgets squeezed while we splashed on photo ops.⁸

The Chart of Liberal Lumps: Top 10 Self-Inflicted Wounds

Notes: housing stats from StatCan, debt from Finance Canada, vibes from thin air.

____________________________

Mark Carney, Canada’s self-anointed visionary, peddles big ideas so batshit crazy they’d make a televangelist blush. A 100% Canadian car? I’m not sure if we could handle 100% made dog toys. Who would make the little thing inside that makes noise when the dog bites on it, not to mention the cotton fluff? We’d have to hothouse the cotton or use wheat chaff.

Lead a coalition of who? Luxembourg and a gaggle of tax havens? We’re an overconfident eight-year-old, yanking the wheel of Daddy’s overpriced sedan, screaming, “I can drive!”—crashing inevitable.

End trade with the U.S., you say? Brilliant! The biggest economy in the world next door, Carney says our strategy is to out-hissy fit Trump.

Not possible. That man is a pro. But you still see gushy, infatuated boomers on X looking at Carney’s wacko ideas and going, “That’s Leadership.”

No, that’s stupid.

His ideas are unworkable baubles for the dim, dropped like Trudeau’s proportional representation - the second power’s pocketed—too late, suckers.

Next, he’ll announce a Canadian moon landing, Buzz Aldrin, in a toque funded by loonies. Leadership? It’s not pioneering; it’s flogging glitter-dusted nonsense a Google search dismantles faster than a ChatGPT marketing pitch. Build 500,000 homes for $70,000 each?

What does he mean—dollhouses for hipster squirrels? Then there’s his gem: a delta force of non-binary vegetarians. They can’t fight terrorists, but they’ll be there if we need to break up a school board riot when they are squabbling over soggy paper straws. Carney’s also cooking up a transcontinental hyperloop powered by moose farts—genius for the gullible until the stench hits.

It’s a pity that sanctimony and shamelessness couldn’t be used as an energy source or have some military application. Then we would be on to something.

We could lead the coalition of the sanctimonious and shameless, purple-haired lesbian militias led by rich kids who would have to have someone explain what a snow shovel is for.

They would need to have attended private schools, where the only person with a part-time job was the kid who had to clean the pool every Saturday morning. But that was because his dad was getting it on with the nanny, and they wanted some alone time.

The Send-Off

So, the Mark Carney Liberals—running on “we buggered it all, but we’ll do the opposite, sorry!”—contradict themselves with every breath, never quite owning the mess.

The secret memo’s a corker: a suited saviour, enviro-zealot or not, banking on goldfish voters who’ll swoon for his pleasant vibe and over pesky facts. Carney is a visionary for those who never make it past the headlines.

Another rich lad who’s never pumped his gas, poised for four more years of faffing about. Canadians, bless their uninformed hearts; they might just buy it—because who needs competence when you’ve got a cracking suit?

Another beer, please. I still like Guinness, but am concerned about their latest Hamas co-branding.

1. Someone on the Hub can’t remember. Too lazy to find out.