It’s been a while since I have written to you in a letter that became known as the Great Abandoner. Being the son of a tailor, I always look for threads. And there was a thread I discovered in your illustrious biography. You appeared to be committed to little and ready to abandon all. I didn’t wish to dwell on your personal and family life. It would be out of synch with my Canadian values. So I just focused on your professional life. I never accused you of lacking intellect. You have a lot upstairs. Not much though it seems downstairs. Where the heart is – your ability to strongly and passionately commit to any endeavor, any project, any career, any assignment — not much there. Below the heart where the guts are – standing up to strong opponents, standing up to your own fellow travelers, just plain standing up and staying and throwing a knockout punch – not much there.
It seems to me the only thing you were able to complete were your books. Twenty-two of them – Not bad. I don’t know how many you wrote yourself. It’s hard to tell in the book industry who is actually writing what. But in what I read there seemed to be another thread. You seemed to have an eerie distance from all that you wrote about. In True Patriot Love, your latest book where you try to connect with Canada by visiting places where your kinfolk lived, you seemed so awfully patronizing to them. Whether discussing their political or theological ideas, there was no intimate connection with the family, and none with the country. I guess it’s fair to say the book revealed more to me about why Canada bores you and why you spent 90 percent of your adult life away from this country. We don’t have a star system in Canada like they do in some of the other countries where you have chosen to park your boots. We tend not to make much of a fuss about those people who have public profile. In plain Canadian English, we are not very good at sucking up to people who have more fame or influence or money than the rest of us. We aren’t the UK or the USA where it’s much easier for a fellow like you to get his ego fur stroked, his leaves raked, his pointy little head patted by the plastic people who you spent so much time with in the American northeast, the English south and the south of France — I know that Canada never gave you the kind of massage that you got in your favorite corners of the world and that is why your current Canadian sojourn is a bit of an inconvenience for you.
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Outstanding! But this one line had me rolling on the floor.
You’ve seen Jack’s blackberry. It’s like the Chernobyl reactor. Everything inside is half baked.
“(Iggy) You just adore yourself too much to share your dance card with someone …who dances with the stars”
We need to put an ad together on this image. Call it:
Dancing with the Czars.
Adler says “I discovered in your illustrious biography… you appeared to be committed to little and ready to abandon all.” Therefore, who would be calling the tune? Iggy won’t care what the tunes are; he is simply a narcissist like Obama. Iggy will dance to any tune, he simply wants to pirouette on stage with his teleprompter; with policy written by ..who knows?
We’d likely be listening to a grunge Parliament. Grunge, punk rock is what we’ll get if Iggy’s Liberals succeed in forming a government propped up beside the juke box with the tunes called by Dipper Layton, the x-Dipper Boob Rae and the x- outright commie party member Duceppe.
‘Everything inside is half baked’ just like his head.
Adler can get a bit tiresome but he’s pretty much on the money on this one.