Just Remember, You Read it Here First

Now that the NDP has chosen Thomas Mulcair as its new leader, it won't be long before the Conservatives unleash the full shock and awe of their smear campaign to define him in the vilest terms possible.

Recently 500 Words obtained an inside look at just how the Conservative machine operates. Donning a plaid sportscoat and a "Just Give 'er" ballcap, and clutching a large double-double, I concealed myself among a group of Conservative loyalists being given a tour of party headquarters.

When our hoods were removed, I noticed we appeared to be in a vast, subterranean complex. We were greeted by our tour guide, a cheerful woman, who said her name was Bev. As she led us down a dimly lit corridor, we could hear the distant sounds of rattling chains, painful whimpering, and the occasional anguished cry. "Pay no attention," said Bev, "That's just the weekly caucus meeting." My group nodded in unison.

She led us to a room, marked "The Peter Van Loan Free Speech Institute". Once our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we could see rows of gnome-like creatures hunched over banks of telephones: "Are you aware your Liberal MP is resigning?", "Have you heard the rumour your NDP member is quitting?"

Bev explained that this very room had been ground zero for the free speech campaign to help liberate the people of Irwin Cottler's riding. Several women moaned. A lady from Red Deer fainted and had to be supported by her husband.

Next we were led to the Sun Media Video Centre. "Or as we like to call it, our National Broadcaster," joked Bev. Everyone gave a knowing chuckle. "You've probably seen our latest effort? It wasn't easy finding twenty-year old footage of Bob Rae giggling, but these guys are the best. Take a bow, boys." Several pale geeks rose from their monitors, embarrassed, accompanied by a cloud of Cheetos dust. Our group applauded vigourously. "OK, folks, let's let them get back to work."

"I've saved the best 'til last last," said Bev, as she led us back into the hallway and down to a large conference room marked "Preston Manning Centre for Building Democracy". At the far end sat a group of hollow-eyed twenty-somethings, empty coffee cups and Red Bull cans scattered about.

Bev introduced us, "Got some fine folks here that help pay your salary." She winked. "Can you give us a hint as to what kinda welcome the commie socialists' new boss can expect?" She winked again.

An over-caffeinated woman filled us in: "We've been spit-balling messages based on the NDP's initials; you know 'No Donations Party' or 'Not Dependable Party' – explosive stuff! But we think we're going to go with 'No Depends Party'; it just works on so many emotional levels! We just have to get the nerds down in Sun Centre to come up with some old video of Mulcair farting or scratching his ass! The ads will be ready to go in time for the playoffs! Just have to run them before and after Coach's Corner and the next election is as good as won!"

Around me people were crying, speaking in tongues, and whipping out their cheque books.

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There's a good reason you haven't heard from me for a while. I've recently become a grandfather for the first time. Welcome to this wonderful, beautiful, crazy world, Tristen. You give me the best reason of all to want to make it a better place.

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