Some links before I get started today. Norma had her Friday photoblog yesterday. Shelly had things to be thankful for at her blog. Parsnip had a Square Dog Friday as always yesterday. And Mark wrote about his point of view on swimming.
Now then, today I once again take up the obnoxious voice of the worst politician in Canadian history, the profoundly stupid, drug addled, walking temper tantrum, aka Mayor Rob Ford....
9:55 AM. Waking up. Hung over. Hell, I’m like that nine days a week anyway, fifty eight weeks a year. Wait, is that math right? Awww, who cares? Math was never my strong suit anyway. I know what’ll take care of that hangover. Some delicious booze. Booze understands me.
10:15 AM. Dougie shows up. Hey, brother, what’s on the campaign schedule for today? We gonna tar and feather some granola eating liberal commies in Kensington Market? ‘Cause I can think of a few that have it comin’.
10:17 AM. Dougie tells me the cops up north are going to be moving the Escalade outta impound tomorrow for a court hearing. What the hell I was thinkin’ lendin’ the car to that woman, I don’t know... Dougie, listen, man, we gotta break the Robmobile outta there. It means too much to me, man, and besides, we’ve customized the interior so we can hide booze and crack, and we can’t let that much work go to waste. Road trip, brother! We’re springin’ the Robmobile!
12:05 PM. Drivin’ north with Dougie. My sobriety coach Bob is drivin’ us. The plan’s for him to drop us off, we’ll get the Robmobile back, and drive home. Perfect plan, man. Nothing can go wrong.
I like Bob. He kicks protestors, snarls at the press, and fetches my vodka and crack for me. Plus he’s a good drinkin’ buddy.
12:25 PM. Hey, Bob! How long’s this drive gonna take? It ain’t like it’s the weekend, right? Dougie tells me to be patient, that we’ll be up there soon enough. He’s busy on the phone, talkin’ to our campaign staff. Seems we missed a council meetin’ this morning. Oh, like I give a **** about council. Buncha ****ers.
1:15 PM. Up in cottage country. Spent a lotta time up here hidin’ out pretendin’ I was actually in rehab. Buncha idiots in Ford Nation still believe me. Man, they’re dumb. Dumber than a lampshade in January.
1:40 PM. Bob lets us off near the impound lot. We tell him to get his butt back to Toronto. We got work to do. Damn, shoulda brought Sandro along to help us, but the cops are watchin’ him too closely. ****in’ cops. I hate those ****ers.
1:45 PM. Headin’ round back with Dougie through the woods. Damn ****in' bugs bitin’ us all over. Owww! Stupid little ****ers! We see the Robmobile. Okay, all we gotta do is get over that fence. How hard can that be?
1:46 PM. Dougie thought ahead. Brought some wire clippers. Good idea, Dougie! Let’s just cut our way through that fence. Truth be told, I don’t think my heart would let me make it over that fence.
1:50 PM. We’re in the Robmobile! Success! I tell Dougie I’m drivin’. It’s been too long since I’ve had my hands on the wheel. I’m fine to drive. I’ve only had seven bottles of vodka on the drive up. And smoked some crack.
1:56 PM. Success! We’ve just bulldozed our way out the front gates of the impound lot. Nearly ran down those guards too, but hey, those ****ers shoulda been doin’ their job. Nobody messes with the Fords!
2:55 PM. Back on the big highway, headin’ south, managed to knock over a few mailboxes for good measure. I got the wheel of the Robmobile in one hand, a bottle of Iceberg Vodka in another. Does life get any better than this?
3:05 PM. Oh, ****! Dougie! We got cops behind us, and the ****ers are runnin’ their lights!
3:07 PM. Dougie’s on the phone with our campaign staff. Seems we got ****in' news helicopters up there followin’ us too. More ****in' cops now. Jeez, Dougie, you know what this is, brother? I’ll tell you what it is. We’re havin’ an OJ in the Bronco freeway chase! We hit the big time, brother! Yeeeeeaaaaahhhhhh!!!!
3:17 PM. Still bein’ chased. The ****in’ cops haven’t tried to force us to stop yet, but they have put in a call to Dougie’s phone. Wonder which one of my ****in' staffers gave up the number. Buncha doublecrossin’ ****ers. When I find out who it was, I’m gonna have their ****in' legs broken. I know guys who’ll do it for me.
Dougie says the cops are tellin’ him to tell me to pull over. **** that, Dougie! This thing we’re doin, it’s all out, to the end!
4:05 PM. More helicopters overhead. Less cars on the freeway south. More cops behind us. Buncha ****ers, I’ll show you ****ers who’s who.
4:10 PM. Oh, ****!!! They’ve set up a barricade! The whole ****in’ freeway’s blocked with those ****in’ cop ****in’ cars! Come on, Robbie, think! What would the Bandit do? ‘Cause in this situation, you’re the Bandit, big guy!
4:11 PM. Damn it. Swerved the Robmobile off the road and into the ditch.
Cops surroundin’ the car. Dougie, think we can tell them it was all a ****in' joke? You think these stupid ****in’ cops will buy that?
4:12 PM. Hauled outta the Robmobile by the cops. Hey, do you ****ers know who I am? I’m Rob ****in’ Ford! I’m the Mayor of Toronto! I’m gonna be Prime Minister, you ****ers, and when I am, I’m gonna have every single one of you ****ers beaten into a ****in' pulp!
Damn... those ****in' news choppers are still overhead. Buncha maggot ****ers are probably filming all of this. Wonder if I can say this was just a case of another drunken stupor?
4:40 PM. Bein’ booked with Dougie in the local O.P.P. station. Buncha ****ers are takin’ our fingerprints, bookin’ us like we’re just common crooks. And they wonder why I hate ****in’ cops.
5:15 PM. Stuck in a cell with Dougie. I look over him and ask what he thinks this’ll do for our poll numbers.
7:45 PM. Bailed out by our lawyer Dennis. Great guy, got our butts outta the fire plenty of times already, even if I’m still awaiting trial on that hit and run, the whole drunk and disorderly thing, hittin’ that King, hittin’ that Mountie... hell, I’ll still beat the rap on all those in the end, and I’ll do the same with these forty eight new charges. 100 percent, guaranteed. Ford More Years!
7:55 PM. Buncha maggot reporters waitin’ outside. Dennis and Dougie shove through and get me in the back of the car. I ignore their yells. Same way I ignore shirtless joggers. Hey, Dennis, I could use a drink right now, you got any vodka in here?
11:45 PM. Back home, gettin’ hammered in the back yard. Whatta day. Those vulture scum ****ers in the press are makin’ a big deal outta nothin’. It was my ****in' car, after all, so I had every right to go get it. Ford Nation ****in' gets that!
Come to think of it, I’d better break the Robmobile outta wherever the **** they got it this time.