After all these years of making an ass of himself you’d think Warren Kinsella would cut his losses and find refuge in an unmarked grave.
But if past history is any guide, the egomaniacal poseur actually enjoys his many moments of public humiliation.
Take, for example, the time he blogged about a visit to Ottawa in 2009:
“Back in the Big Owe for a couple weeks, so what better way to kick things off than with some BBQ cat and rice at the Yang Sheng, hangout of our youth? Yay!”
BBQ cat?! From the guy who had Doc Martened Mark Steyn for referring in his column to the Chinese as “chinks” and “gooks?”
So when the Toronto Chapter of the Chinese Canadian National Council demanded an apology, Kinsella immediately caved, posting an abject YouTube grovel: “To any Chinese Canadian offended by what I said, again, I sincerely apologize.”
Then there was the time the self-appointed Printh of Darkneth, having successfully sucked his way onto Olivia Chow’s mayoral campaign, shot his mouth off about John Tory’s SmartTrack transit plan as being “segregationist.”
Exit Kinsella, in a cloud of hen shit and pecker dust.
And who can forget the time the Great Feminist™ hyucked in a photo caption that Tory MPP Lisa MacLeod should be home “baking cookies” instead of attending a political event.
Cue the humiliation and ensuing apologies.
Last week, Kinsella launched his latest exercise in self-abasement: #LookAtMeToo came replete with breathless predictions of dire consequences for the “creeps and criminals slithering through Canadian corridors of power…[who] will soon be going down.”
“One of these men is very, very powerful. The stories have been known about him for three years. His name will shock you.”
Mark Bonokoski, Kinsella’s brother-in-arms at the Toronto Sun, joined in the wink-wink-say-no-more, hinting that Kinsella was referring to Justin Trudeau, who might well be outed “within hours.” When CTV gumshoe Mercedes Stephenson asked the PM if there might be anything in his own past he’d like to maybe get ahead of, he doubled down, declaring his always-careful respect for the headspace of peoplekind, or something similar.
Then came, er, nada.
Well, pre-doomed PMO sluggo Claude-Eric Gagne, placed on pig leave back in December, made his resignation official. But his name came as more of a who dat? than a shock. And “very, very powerful?” Pfft.
In the runup to this letdown, Kinsella had, of course, been only too happy to exploit long-forgotten rumours that Trudeau once had a consensual legover with Another Woman and, well, that’s it!
This tattle may have been as stale as yesterday’s cheese balls, but Kinsella managed to double his self-pleasure with his moment in the spotlight: He made life briefly miserable for his old nemesis, Gerry Butts, plus, he got to prance about on his #MeToo high horse.
“Saturday night, June 19, 2010, was the first evening Warren had all four of his children together since late March 2010. He left them home alone that evening while he went to an Iggy Pop concert.”
“When Suzanne was at the cottage this summer, she found that Warren had installed a padlock on the cottage, and he used a wood burning instrument to engrave his initials into every piece of furniture there…”
Even as a public pantsing, this was fourth-rate. That well-read court file has circulated around Ottawa for years, and Frank apologizes for repeating such dated dish about such tiresome twats (stalwart allies of the sisterhood, shurely?!–ed.)