According to my roommates, someone from the Liberal Party has called our house and asked for me by name three times. Even though I was home all three times, apparently the caller wasn't bothered to stay on the line long enough for someone to tell me I had a phone call.
Too bad, too—by the third time around, I was good and ready to engage the bonehead in some spirited political dialogue.
I could have a little respect, a smidgen that is, for Bébé Turd-owe if he had a LITTLE of papa’s intelligence. Instead, he has his mother’s intelligence and his father’s arrogance. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that back a few generations, he has a common ancestor with O’Venal.
God help us it either Turd-owe or Komrade Mulcair for the government!