Even if Paul Wells has signed Harper's sheet for permitted to access to the exercise of the (and our) now freedom-ette of the press, he is also a fine writer by times, like this encapsulation of Ken Dryden, distant relative in law, contained in a larger piece about the Liberal leadership debate on the weekend:
Ken Dryden has been forced, by the sheer weight of his slab-like, builders-of-Stonehenge speaking style, to become pithy, because otherwise he just won't get anything said in 90 seconds. So he was very good on the limitations of Harper's ruthlessly pragmatic electoral strategies (if some group or segment of the population isn't needed for his majority, "write 'em off"). And he gives every issue a sort of epic significance that is, very often, hogwash (farmers offer "more than food and fibre"; equalization is more than numbers; everything is deeper than what you petty mortals believe it to be) — but which is still often quite moving. I'm not at all sure what kind of public administrator Ken Dryden would be ("Wait! Don't shut that abandoned government warehouse down! Don't you understand that it's more than a warehouse? Don't you see it has dreams inside?..."), but I have no doubt he sings at frequencies only Liberals can hear, and I expect him to grow his support after a very haphazard start.That is just lovely writing.
Comments
Cool Girl - June 12, 2006 5:06 pm
"Slab-like" is a truly fine word.
Wonderful.
Gordo - June 12, 2006 8:28 pm
Dryden would make a wonderful leader, I think. He's still revered as a God in Quebec, his French was learned as a Hab and he hasn't taken any donations from any pre-pubescent children of drug company executives (that we know of). I just wonder what it would do to the incredibly gentle and friendly fellow I had the opportunity to talk to when Home Game hit the bookstore shelves.
portland - June 12, 2006 11:40 pm
this does not not have anything to do with dryden. just got me to thinking about hockey parliamentarians is all.
when i was at the senate, in my last year, frank mahovlich was appointed. he was assigned an office in the victoria building on the eighth floor. i was on the 3rd. the committee i worked for regularly held its meetings in that building. my job, largely, as the chief henchman for the liberal chairman, was to make sure the meetings went okay. i got coffee if they needed coffee, i hustled witnesses in and out of the room, i made sure everybody had pens that worked, i watched the tories like a hawk to make sure they were not about to jump all over us if our numbers were down in the room. if something was up, and you didnt have the majority in the room, you couldn't be shy. i'd march into any liberal senators office at any time, say "follow me now", lead them to the committee room, and put them on the committee until the vote was passed. often it was a scramble to find somebody sitting at thier desk when you needed them. one day, i had to go all the way up to the eighth floor. mahovlich's door was open. i peeked in. he was there. i marched past his secretary who sqeaked at me to stop and explain myself. frank looks up from his desk and looks at me (who he doesn't know from adam) and i get to say the three cooolest words i'll ever get to utter. "mahovlich," i say, "you're in"
Alan - June 12, 2006 11:43 pm
How many bad martinis I drink with you and you never once told me that one?
portland - June 13, 2006 12:24 am
and i can sing the theme song from bonanza.