You hear about them Duggars and their skullduggary? It’s always the ones you least suspect, like prodigious shut-ins and religious maniacs.
I expected better of Arkansas. It’s world-renowned for snake-handlin’, so you’d think a common trouser trout wouldn’t trip ’em up.
I guess I don’t understand TV these days.
I thought for kiddie diddlin’ and incest I’d need to pony up for more than basic cable. It’s the hypocrisy I can’t abide. If this was some Game of Thrones shit folks’d be eatin’ it up like curly fries.
Speakin’ of McCain’s, word out of the Maritimes today that Pete MacKay is pullin’ a Baird. (I mean in the quittin’ politics meanin’ of the word, not the cruisin’ for twinks sense.)
I guess he finally saw the writin’ on the wall, because when I was in Ottawa last I wrote “Fuck You MacKay!” in a toilet on Sparks Street.
I guess “Thank-you for your service” and all that crap is in order, but he’ll always be the fella you left your old dog with for a long weekend and he put it down with a shotgun.
Sure, somebody had to put the PC party out of its misery, and even Joe Clark wasn’t miserable enough to do it – at the time, being leader of the PCs was about as important a job as bein’ the star of a sad show called “19 MPs and Counting” – but the way he went about it made no sense.
At least until he married that Iranian girl. Then things started to add up, eh?
Sure, for a while MacKay acted like a trusted capo, but Mr. Harper came to know he couldn’t trust him as far as he could fly him in a military helicopter.
He’s lucky he didn’t wind up Guergis’d at the bottom of Meech Lake wearing a pair of cement Jaffers.