What Prime Minister Justin Trudeau Needs Is A ‘Brain Guard’ Named Bill

“Justin my lad, my name’s Bill and I’m here to help.”
“You’re going to help me win a fourth term?”
“No, I said my name was Bill not God Almighty.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Sadly, son, there’s a Sahara Desert full of stuff you apparently don’t get but let’s take this one misstep at a time.”
“So how are you going to help?”
“My official title will be your Deputy of Discretion but think of me as your ‘brain guard.’ I believe you’re suffering from DDD, Disastrous Decision Disorder. So every time your brain drifts off to the ‘Land Of If Only’… BAM! — I’ll bring you back to reality.”
“But I did win the election.”
“Against Curly, Larry and Annamie Paul. Canadians needed that election like COVID needs another variant.”
“Well, not all of my decisions have been bad because…”
“Justin, from that Christmas holiday with the Aga Khan to the picnic on the beach in Tofino during Canada’s first National Truth and Reconciliation Day — you’ve suffered more regrettable brain farts than the 12 publishers who rejected J.K. Rowling’s ‘Harry Potter’ manuscript.”
“That’s rather harsh. Overall I think I’ve made some very good choices and…”
“Justin, the Ethics Commissioner has you on speed dial.”
“Well, you can’t say every decision I’ve made…”
“Justin, you named a spaced-out, anxiety-ridden, control-freak ex-astronaut as the Governor General of Canada. Kawhi Leonard would have been a better choice.”
“I just don’t see this ‘brain guard’ thing working.”
“Well, just tell me what you’re thinking. What’s going on up there?”
“Well, I’m thinking of going out on Halloween dressed up as Aladdin or maybe Ali Baba… (WHACK! TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD!) Hey! That hurt! Why’d you do that?”
“That’s my job, I’m your Deputy of Discretion, remember?
“And for Christmas…” (WHACK!) “What the hell?!?”
“Don’t even think about jetting off to a rich friend’s private island in the Caribbean while ordinary Canadians freeze their asses off.”
“What do you mean by ‘ordinary Canadians’?”
“You know when you were attending all those expensive private schools and hanging out exclusively with other privileged boys and girls whose parents worked tirelessly to get their massive inherited wealth mentioned in Forbes Magazine — well, the janitors and teachers and your drivers — they were ordinary Canadians.”
“Okay. Yeah, the help.”
“Let’s say you organized a caucus retreat and you needed a guest speaker. Who comes to mind?”
“Well, my mother and my brother have considerable experience.”
(WHACK!) “Say the word ‘nepotism’ three times out loud.”
“I didn’t know anything about that WE scandal.”
“You probably didn’t. And maybe you didn’t know that Jaspal Atwal, the guy you and Sophie welcomed to that ‘Mr. Dress Up’ Bollywood reception in Mumbai was a murderer. Or that Wei Wei, the guy who contributed $1 million to your foundation was also the Toronto real estate mogul who turned his private 16-bathroom mansion into a lucrative and illegal casino. But can you see how all this looks to the voters and how most Canadians see you as a bit of tone-deaf dolt?”
“Well, I’m against gambling if that’s what you mean.”
“Not what I meant but it’s a good thing you’re not a betting man because the odds on you winning another election are the same as the Leafs winning the Stanley Cup… with Jody Wilson-Raybould in goal.”
“So you’re just another one of those gravel-throwing haters?”
“Not at all. As a person I quite like you. I was a fan of your father, I knew your mother, Margaret and I spent time with your brother ‘Sasha’. I voted for you. I think you handled the pandemic quite well and you didn’t knuckle under to China’s bullying. I believe you’re the last best chance Indigenous Peoples have to right the catastrophic wrongs of Canada’s past. Although I do think an environmentalist who buys a pipeline is a lot like a boxer who is also a bleeder, you’ve done a decent job”
“It’s the steady stream of gaffes that angers me. After the Tofino debacle I thought either your advisers have a sick sense of humour or you’re subscribing to a website called ‘Bonehead Decisions Made Easy’.”
“And for Christmas, instead of jetting south you might think about staying home and on a wintery Ottawa night, take a walk in the snow. You know, like your father did.”

For a comment or a signed copy of The Dog Rules – Damn Near Everything email: williamjthomas@gmail.com

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