May I Call You Justin? or, R-r-r-r-oll up and r-r-r-rim to win™!


Well,  come Monday the 19th, I donned my tiara with the great, big flashing “L-for-loser” and trotted off, unopened VISA bill in hand, to vote, non-strategically, for the Beard Party.

Taut muscle + tousled hair + Winner of the Rim Job Thought Experiment = The Person Called Trudeau.
Taut muscle + tousled hair + Winner of the Rim Job Thought Experiment = The Person Called Trudeau.

Mainly ’cause of their free Birkenstocks platform and their fantastic thank-you-gift collectibles for any voter over nine who could be persuaded.

I’m thinking – and these are just the ones that are top of mind – of the Special Election Edition Linda McQuaig “Make My Hair Pretty – Please?®” Doll (cheap batteries, tube of Dippity-Do and tiny, dandruff -encrusted brush included); and of course the Jack Layton Memorial Steeped Tea Mug with inspirational quote  – “I said it was massage and Olivia says so too!”- which dribbles “Sleepy-Time” onto your white collar through its secret hole and then just –  breaks.

You may be wondering.

Voting in our first-past-the-post system brings with it all the enfranchised fun of buying a Lotto 649 ticket just after you’ve spent your rent money on another ball of “hard”. Though it be ever so complex, all you need to know about this system is that voting for who you believe in is for chumps.  Believe in?! Puh-lllllease!  

You vote for anyone you think will win who’s not the person you don’t want to win, and/or the person called Trudeau, whichever comes first.  Are you getting this down?

My vote for facial hair therefore virtually guaranteed the sweeping into power of the National Liberal-Twink Alliance Who Are Virtually Indistinguishable From The Conservatives But Certainly More Hot If It Is, In Fact,The Person Called Trudeau.

Rim-Job Thought Experiment™ To Determine Voting Preferences:

To determine which Canadian election candidates are “hot”, and therefore who to vote for, try this Rim-Job Thought Experiment™.  Yes, ladies, you too!

Part 1:  Are you lying on your back?  OK.  First, imagine Stephen Harper sitting on your face.  Look, I didn’t say this was going to be easy.  That’s right, you got it, go to town with this image.  Fill in lots of detail.  Spare yourself nothing regarding his personal hygiene, unkempt pubic hair or lack thereof, his reactions.  DOES he react, that’s a good point, excellent work, Céline!   You see?

Now, in preparation for Part 2, please brush your teeth.

Part 2:  OK, now, on the other hand, imagine The Person Called Trudeau lowering his ass onto your already wagging, eager tongue.  Keep going, make this as concrete as possible!  Imagine his ululations of pleasure as you probe and savor!  Get specific!  Does he grind his butt?  Or does he just let his weight settle down, down, down, so you fear – or hope – you might meet your maker while clamped in his luscious, gluteal embrace?  Bring. It. ON!  Right?

Conclusions:  So, having tried the Rim Job Thought Experiment™, who do you think is hotter?  Well, I would definitely agree with you!  Yes, I am kind of awesome, and it’s sweet of you to bring it up yet again!

Thus, with a Canada-wide blast of hold-your-nose-and-anyone-but-Harper mass strategic voting,  an eerie is-this-Alzheimer’s-or-is-it-really-1972? wave of déja-vu, and a collective panty-moistening of every female over 45 in the entire country,  we elected The Person Called Trudeau in a landslide of taut muscle, tousled hair and optimism.

Steve Harper, that glassy-eyed alien (and for that matter, his crack-fueled croney Rob Ford, Toronto City Hall’s very own “Night With Chucky“) was nothing after all but a second-rate, tone-deaf accountant at karaoke night dreaming he was onstage at Massey Hall.

Mr Harper? Your rapture flight will now board, and may you and yours have swift and final uplift.

And Mr Ford?  Robbie Baby Bobbie Boobie?  Eat more food, dude.  You hear me?  Robert darling?

EAT. MORE. FOOD.

A large, malignant Fordoma

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