STARR SNATCHES THE SHOW! - Best Hosting Plan Ever

BY BILLY BOB MCWILLIAMS
EVERY WEEK OR SO, SOME PINHEAD
HUMAN RESOURCES OUTFIT CLOGS UP THE
FRANKLAND FAX MACHINE WITH PAGES AND
PAGES OF TOUCHY-FEELY HORSESHIT
DESIGNED TO SOMEWHAT SUBTLELY
SUGGEST THAT I, BILLY BOB MCWILLIAMS,
MAY BE ABLE TO BENEFIT FROM ONE OF
THEIR MOLLY-CODDLING MANAGEMENT
TRAINING PROGRAMS.
I don’t mind telling you I round-file that
malarky immediately upon receipt.
I mean, really, let’s be serious, do I strike
you as the kind of individual who needs to
learn to manage people?
I didn’t think so.
I’ll have you know that after six long
years at the helm of this fine bi-weekly
family publication, I have become nothing
if not adept at dealing with the concerns
of my esteemed colleagues.
Why just the other week, I overheard
someone compare a week at The Bunker
to a prison sentence, a preposterous
comparison if ever I’d heard one.
And so to prove the sheer ridiculousness
of such a statement, I presented my coworkers
with a copy of a recent BBC news
article outlining a few of the goings on at
the real Frankland Prison, a high-secu-
SENATOR, FROM PREVIOUS PAGE
I’m here today to talk to you about my fair
and balanced education at The School of Hard
Knockers, er, um, I mean Knocks, School of
Hard Knocks, and how I manufactured my
ascent to the Upper Chamber.
Now, I know what a few people are asking,
they’re asking, “Geez, Duff, what are you doing
in the Senate, anyway?”
And, the answer is nothing. At the moment.
However, shortly, I will be forming my own
sitting committee — The Senate Sitting Committee
on Hotdog Eating Contests — of which,
of course, I will be the chair and only member,
and therefore sure to win The First Annual
Honourable Mike Duffy Hotdog Eating
Contest.
I haven’t made up the rules yet, but I am
sure they’ll be fair. Fair to me, at least.
After all, I’ve eaten my share of hotdogs and
baloney sandwiches over the years. As well
as many other things.
That’s what I mean by going to The School
JUST NOT SO STORIES
(YES, WE MAKE THEM UP)
Peace & joy in the Bunker
rity lock-up in County Durham, England.
In addition to the high-profile stabbing of
three guards by a deranged, bottle-wielding
inmate, Frankland Prison has, since 2007,
been the scene of several — how can I put
this tastefully? — messy incidents, including
two separate cases of inmates having “boiling
liquid” poured over them, and another
of Hard Knocks. But I dropped out of the
School of Hard Knocks when I decided it was
too hard for me and much, much easier to
suck up to the likes of Stephen Harper and
Peter MacKay, and John Baird and Jim
Flaherty, and Jason Kenney, and the poor
bastard in the wheelchair, and the chick in the
permanent sunglasses, to get where I am
toady ... er, um, or should that be today?
Don’t know. Never was much of a writer, just
more of a sycophantic television presenter,
talking head, who could never find either the
right time slot for my show or a shirttail that
would stayed tucked in! Ha! Ha! Ha!
All I can say is Thank The Good Lord, the
U.S. networks would never give me a second
look, because, it they did, I would certainly
never be where I am today. I had to do something.
What was I supposed to do?
Ask John Bragg if he could put me on his
gold card for the rest on my life? Go door to
door in Summerside and Charlottetown ask-
where a terrorist prisoner was “set on fire.”
I don’t recall anything even remotely similar
happening here.
And obviously my co-workers agree, as
not one of them has since dared offered to
make any more of those unfounded Bunker-prison
comparisons in my presence.
Management training. As if!
ing if I could eat any spare house pets? I had
to make a move.
I had to move up, and sucking up won’t get
you everything in life. But it will certainly get
you where you want to go.
That’s what wrong with journalism students
today. They think the bloody world owes them
a living.
They’ve been brainwashed by integrity and
stupid things like that.
Yeah. Mark my words.
Someday, they’ll all end up part of some left
wing totalitarian state; wearing berets, living
the high life in unelected positions of power,
with far too many perks and absolutely nothing
to wrap their vacuous minds around except,
possibly: affordable housing, accessible
health care, decent wages, progressive taxation,
and assorted crap like that.
Anyway, thank you ... and, now, I hear that
helicopter sound again!
Say! Anybody wanna order out for donairs?
It’s on you!!!
APRIL 13, 2010 ATLANTIC CANADA FRANK 27