Barbs & Jabs

Such is democracy

Today's quote from former Liberal agriculture minister Eugene Whelan is worthy of stealing.
I, too, don't give a hoot and a holler and a counterfit dollar if Liberal leadership hopeful Gerard Kennedy didn't spend his life in a university.
While Michael Ignatieff, one of four frontrunners bidding got the Liberal crown, was a professor at an American university, Mr. Kennedy was rolling up his sleeves and feeding hungry Canadians. In my books, Kennedy's achievements carries far more weight than some snotty academic who preferred to call the United States instead of Canada home for 30 years.   
The first ballot for the 4,300 Liberal delegates in Saturday's vote is foreplay. All the energy and buzz on the  convention floor in Montreal is focusing on the second ballot. 
With Michael Ignatieff, Bob Rae, Kennedy and Stephane Dion as frontrunners in the eight-way race, the Liberals' choice reeks of democracy, making me a very happy onlooker.   
I've decided to play "What if".
If I was a voting delegate at the Liberal showdown, I'd mark my X beside Kennedy's name and I'd stick with the former Ontario education minister as far as my vote was needed.
Don't be surprised if a Stop-Ignatieff move is put into high gear within seconds after the results of the second ballot are announced. 
Here's how I see the shuffle:
Joe Volpe and Martha Hall Findlay will drop off the first ballot, while Ken Dryden will withdraw before the third ballot, sending out a signal which could help set a particular tone for the rest of the voting.
If Dryden gives Dion the nod and the Quebec MP's numbers are favourable, many voters will start to wonder if Dion has the ability to vault over Kennedy to challenge Rae and Ignatieff. If this happens, the Stop-Ignatieff movement will go into overdrive.
Leadership conventions take on a life of their own, regardless of party.
I've been on the floor when the Liberals picked three federal and three provincial leaders, while I was in the thick of it when the provincial Conservatives picked Frank Miller and then Larry Grossman. Meanwhile, when the federal New Democrats crowned Ed Broadbent and their provincial cousins chose Michael Cassidy as leader, I was there.
Here's my call for tomorrow's Liberal race: Rae will be the winner on the fourth ballot.
Here's why:  Most of the original support for Volpe, Hall Findlay and Dryden will eventually find it's way to Rae's camp.
Dion and Kennedy's supporters will then be subject to painful arm-twisting from both Rae's and Ignatieff's people.
I can hear the Liberal grumbling.
"Damn Dion," the Grits will mutter to each other. "If Dion had mastered the English language with more proficiency, we could stick with our Liberal tradition of alternating leaders between French and English and back him with pleasure. But the job at-hand is to wallop Stephen Harper. We can't do it with a guy who can't speak fluent English."
On the last ballot and fourth ballot, support for both Dion and Kennedy will slip, fall and drift, pushing Rae into first place.
If, as it can happens in leadership races, the sneak-up-the-middle wild card could take over, dumping Ignatieff and leaving Rae and Kennedy to fight is out.
In the end, it'll be Rae by a photo finish.
In the after-life, Kennedy, Dion, Hall Findlay will remain to help strengthen the Liberal Party. Dryden will go on to win one last term as a Toronto MP, while Volpe will leave politics after being defeated in his riding.
After Sunday, neither the Liberal party nor the country see much of Ignatieff.
Such is democracy.

I'm sulking

Quite frankly, I'd rather be in Montreal.
In fact, I'm into the first day of a big sulk. 
This marks the first Liberal leadership convention that I've missed since being a delegate in the 1968 convention that, after four ballots, delivered Pierre Trudeau as Grit leader.
Along with the rest of Canada, I witnessed an unknown come out of nowhere to become everything to everyone. It was all about Canada and I loved it. 
The country was alive. I was alive. At 23 years old, the mother of five and part of a new business, Canada was, and still is, important. At the time, I had absolutely no plan whatsoever to be part of the media. I was simply a young Canadian mother thrilled to be able to watch the unstoppable Trudeau. It was a deciding moment. The shy, bashful Canada did an about face and has never looked back.
I returned to the Liberal convention floor when John Turner won over Jean Chretien in 1984, again in 1990  when Chretien won over Paul Martin Jr. and again in 2003 when Paul Martin defeated Sheila Copps.
During the last three Liberal leadership races, I wore media credentials. 
If, however, I was a voting delegate at this week's big Grit party, I'd back Gerard Kennedy.
Since the Quebec-nation controversy has spread from The House of Commons to the Liberal convention, it has kicked life into what could have been a rather drab event.
When Kennedy stressed the separate nation issue is not a small thing, but rather it is about the identify of the country, I could feel the sizzle about to hit the convention floor. 
Will Kennedy be able to reach inside himself and deliver the punch needed to sway the 5,000 delegates? I sure hope so.
While I'm at it, I'd like to salute MP Michael Chong. When the Conservative cabinet minister stood on principle and resigned over Prime Minister Stephen Harper's Quebec comments, he spoke for most Canadians. Mr. Chong stressed the resolution embraced a concept of ethnic nationalism that he could not support.
"I believe in one Canada, undivided, called Canada,"  Mr. Chong said.
With the likes of Kennedy and Mr. Chong, maybe Canada will hold together and thrive.
I have to go now. Sulking is time consuming.

Getting straight answer from government so simple task

The next time the good people who run Ontario decide to give away $4 million, I wish they’d either do it on the hush or do it right.
Sorry, if I sound a little on the bitchy side, but in the span of a few hours, I made more than 30 telephone calls trying to find out if York Region is included in a new provincial funding scheme, designed to help abused women get meaningful jobs.
Information provided by the Ministry Responsible for Women’s Issues stated that 450 women, mostly victims of violence, will be helped land jobs through agencies in a number of select communities.
York Region’s agencies are not included in the select areas.
If you’re an abused woman and would like to escape to safety and go on secure a decent job, you’re in luck if you live in Toronto, Ottawa, Nipising, Lambton Country, Fort Frances and Niagara.
But, if you’re a victim of violence living in Markham, Georgina, East Gwillimbury or Aurora, it looks as if luck’s not about to grace your doorstep. 
Since it’s my job to be nosey, I wondered why the ministry would send me a press release to publish in York Region newspapers if agencies for abused women in our nine municipalities are not factored into the $4-million mix.
In my quest to find some answers, I hit the phone. I called some once, twice, three, four and yes, five times.
The standard. “My name is Joan Ransberry and I’m calling from the York Region Newspaper Group, “ call was made to the following:
• The Ministry Responsible for Women’s Issues (renamed The Ministry Responsible for My Stress).
• Yellow Brick House
• YWCA in Markham
• COSTI in Markham
• Vaughan-King-Aurora MPP Greg Sorbara
• Thornhill MPP Mario Racco
• Oak Ridges MPP Frank Klees
• York-North MPP Julia Munro
From some of those calls, I got zap, while for others, I was given referrals. From there, I placed calls to:
• The Ministry Responsible For My Stress
• George Brown College
• COSTI Immigrant Services
• The YWCA of Greater Toronto
• WoodGreen Community Services
One MPP’s office simply sent me to the Minister Responsible For My Stress, another MPP was annoyed because I’d spoken with two other MPPs. Another MPP’s office called and wanted to know the name of the person who referred me to the Ministry Responsible for My Stress.
Funny, but I thought the issue was helping abused women. 
Despite three calls to a York Region women’s shelter, I never did speak to a real live person. I did, however, leave messages in a general mailbox. As yet, nobody’s called me back.
In one of many calls to the ministry’s communications department, I informed the very polite, but ill-informed young guy that since York University and North York are not in York Region, the agencies there could not help our people. He later apologized for being, in his words, “Toronto centric”.
While polite government boy again referred me to Toronto’s COSTI, the person who eventually returned my call from the agency informed me that my question would have to be directed to someone else. Nor, could he give me the telephone number of the Markham-based COSTI office. I’d have to ask the same somebody else.
Government boy called back just minutes before deadline. Oh, yes. I’m expected to crank out a well-written, balanced and informative story, slotted for Thursday’s front page. 
Government guy had critical names and phone numbers for four Toronto-based spots that he’s confirmed do offer services to York Region residents.
Here’s what I found out.
The YWCA of  Greater Toronto, COSTI, George Brown College and WoodGreen Community Services do cater to York Region residents.
Now for reality: Just how an abused woman in York Region can tap into this $4- million government windfall linked to the four Toronto places isn’t exactly clear.
I filed the story with seconds to spare. I then decided I deserved a coffee. Couldn’t get to the java. My phone rang. I got a “you’re a bad girl”  call from an editor. I’d miss spelled the name Raine Lilieseldt, one of the contacts in the 35-telephone call story. I was then reminded of how important it is to do my job properly.
So, how’s your day going?

Tough decisions

Picture this:
The year is 1970.
I’m at Toronto International Airport, accompanied by my five children The oldest is eight, while the youngest 19 months.
Joining me is my friend Peg, along with her three, four and five-year-olds.
Yes, we took eight kids to the airport.
With no seat belts on Peg’s 10-year-old station wagon, we piled the little ones on top of the big ones, making the one-hour trip without smothering a child.    
The excursion was two-fold: We’d pick up a friend, visiting from Vancouver and give the kids a chance to see the big airplanes.
Just as the Vancouver plane landed, Peg noticed our eight children had disappeared.
Within seconds, Peg pointed to her right and said. “Oh, there they are. Joan go and get them. I’ll wait here.”
I took a few steps, spotted the kids, did a quick head count, confirmed there were eight and breathed the standard mother’s sigh of relief.
I then noticed something peculiar  — the children were standing in a circle.
When I got a little closer, I learned why.
Our children had trapped a midget.
Inching a little closer, I took stock of the situation.
The little man was in his early 50s, bald, wearing a three-piece business suit and carrying a leather briefcase.
The children were well into the throws of asking questions and touching him.
My six-year-old Sally leading the Q and A.
“Do have little paper in your brief case?”
“Can you go to the store all by yourself?”
“Do you have to sit on a phone book when you eat?”
While Peg’s only daughter rubbed the man’s shoes, my three-year old son reached out and took off the man’s glasses.  While the man attempted to recover his glasses, my seven- year old Danny asked his one and only question: “Can you drink beer?” 
Before the man could respond to the booze-related question, my four-year-old, Gord, decided it was time to rub the man’s head, while asking, “Who took your hair?”   
I had to make a decision. Claim the kids or not.
I weighed the options: Since both Peg and I could have more babies, we could leave the kids in the care of the midget and hope for the best. Or, I could simply step forward and humiliate myself. 
“Sir, I  am so very sorry,” was my opening line. I quickly rescued the man’s glasses, asked my son to quit rubbing the man’s head, told Sally she didn’t need to know if he can ride a two wheeler and stopped Peg’s daughter from trying to take the laces out of his shoes.
The little man looked at me, smiled, assured me he wasn’t damaged in any way and said, “It’s not often that I get such a welcome at the airport.”
We took the children home and raised them. I think it was the best decision.

Get over yourself

The ego has landed in Vaughan.
Instead of being graceful in defeat, Vaughan Mayor Michael Di Biase is holding on like a dog with a bone. He has hired a lawyer to ask a Supreme Court judge to order a new election.
When contender Linda Jackson beat Di Biase by a narrow margin of 90 votes in last Monday’s election, the first thing out of his mouth was, “This isn’t over.” 
Di Biase’s legal case now involves allegations voters were confused, some members of the Jewish  community were afraid to vote in a Catholic school and vote-counting machines broke down. 
While I’d never suggest we deny anyone his or her day in court, I can’t help but deliver this message to Di Biase: “Get over yourself.”

What happened to politicians with character?

I wouldn’t want to be trapped in an elevator with the prime minister of Canada.
Let’s cut to the chase:
If I was asked to use one word to describe Prime Minister Stephen Harper, here it is: Homeowner.
Prime Minister Stephen Harper is dull, predictable and safe.
When I go shopping for a prime minister, I look for a mouth that knows how to talk, a pulse, a thick skin, a strong stomach and a backbone. My Canada deserves a risk-taking, compassionate and creative leader.   
Oh, how I wish Canada would return to politicians with personalities.
We’ve done it before. And, we did it very well.
Here’s my lineup for the best of the best: Tommy Douglas, Pierre Trudeau, John Robarts, John Crosby, Joey Smallwood and Stephen Lewis.
And who could forget Rene Levesque? While I didn’t  go along with his political ideology, Rene Levesque was a man of passion.
Different in style, all seven had or have fire in the belly. I’d be honoured to share a trapped elevator with any one or, better yet, all of them.
So, who put the fire out?
When I look at the contenders for the federal Liberal leadership race, I nearly slip into a coma. 
A faint hope clause may, however, be presenting itself in the Liberal leaderless race to be held in Montreal next month.
Does Bob Rae have hidden gusto? Does he have the courage and the drive to wake up the Grit leadership contest being held in Montreal next month?
The answer is: Maybe.
First: the former premier of Ontario plays a mean piano.
Second: Bob Rae recently stepped in front of the CBC television cameras, whipped his clothes off and went skinny dipping with Canadian comedian Rick Mercer.
I was especially impressed with Bob Rae’s cannon ball. It was, as the farmers say, high, wide and handsome. 
If the Liberals pick Buck Naked Bob, perhaps life will eventually return to the House of Commons.
Never give up hope and make sure you always check who’s in the elevator.
P.S. In case you’ve had a memory laps, let me remind you.
The late Tommy Douglas, a premier of Saskatchewan was known as the Father of Medicare. The leader of the CCF party which became the New Democratic Party, was the country’s top pick in the recent Greatest Canadian contest. 
  Pierre Trudeau was prime minister from 1986 to 1979 and again from 1980 to 1984.
John Robarts, a Conservative, was Ontario premier from 1961 to 1971.
John Crosby of Newfoundland is a former federal cabinet minister for the Progressive Conservatives.
Joey Smallwood, a radio reporter and a farmer was a Liberal premier of Newfoundland. He lead the charge to have the province join Canada in 1949.
Stephen Lewis, a former leader of the Ontario New Democratic Party, is now a crusader for AIDS victims and their families.   
Rene Levesque, the premier of Quebec from 1976 to 1955 was the co-founder of the Parti Quebecois. When he tried to take Quebec out of Canada, the country noticed.

Can I pick 'em or what?

And now for the autopsy.
I especially like the day after an election. Yes, it’s all over but the crying.
During the past two months, all but one or two of the 120-plus candidates across York Region reacted well to my criticism, teasing and silliness.   
I suggested some candidates struggled with both the truth and reality while hinting others were in an electoral race for all the wrong reasons.
And, when I  lined all the mayoral candidates up on a stage and stuck ferrets down their pants, nobody contacted a lawyer.
In fact, the ferret-fighting candidates were good sports.
In keeping with tradition, the first thing I do after an election is to check my predictions. My Election 2006 predictions were made in early September.   
This time out, I called eight of the nine York Region mayor races.
My crystal ball was wrong in Aurora.
I predicted incumbent Tim Jones to hold on despite challenges from Phyllis Morris and Nigel Kean, two veteran councillors.
I did, however, notice that 10 days before the vote, the tired wheels came off Mr. Kean’s campaign, giving Ms Morris the edge.
Here’s another prediction: Ms Morris will be a very good mayor.
Unlike other York Region mayors, Mr. Jones was straddled with a dysfunctional council and simply lacked the necessary leadership skills to fix it.
Did the voters in of Aurora finally realize fighting between members of council was not only an embarrassment to democracy, but compromised the town’s business?
Did the blatant lack of teamwork on Aurora’s council fuel Mr. Jones’ downfall?
I assume the abnormal became the norm for Tim. He was not only unable to put a stop to it, he minimized its gravity. 
Still, Aurora has good reasons to thank Tim Jones. He did his best. I wish him well.
Re-electing Margaret Black in King Township and electing Tony Van Bynen in Newmarket, Linda Jackson in Vaughan and Wayne Emmerson in Whitchurch-Stouffville will prove to be the very best choices. Voters in all four municipalities should take a bow.
Of course, the only winner in Markham was Frank Scarpitti. He had it from the get-go, while Dave Barrow will not disappoint Richmond Hill.
In the north, voters stuck with who they know. All things considered, Rob Grossi in Georgina and Jamie Young in East Gwillimbury deserved their wins.
So ends the autopsy on Vote 2006.
P.S. I’ll stick with the blog if you do.

Some pre-election inspiration

Sir Winston Churchill said it best: Democracy is the worst form of government, except all the others have been tried.
Since we’ll go to the polls Monday to exercise one true example of freedom, a few famous quotes about democracy might help voters and candidates put it in perspective.
Here are my favourites:
• An honest election under democracy is an art of innocence that does not take place more than once in the history of a given nation - Jose Marie Gil Robles
• Democracy is the name we give people whenever we need them - Marquia de Flers Robert
• Democracy is a device that ensures we shall be governed no better than we deserve - George Bernard Shaw
• The great thing about democracy is that it gives every voter a chance to do something stupid - Art Spader
• It’s not the voting that’s democracy. It’s the counting -  Tom Shoppard
• Democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts and murders itself. There was never a democracy that did not commit suicide - John Adams
• Democracy is a process by which the people are free to choose the man who will get the blame - Laurence Peter
• Democracy is the party of running the circus from the monkey cage - H.L. Menchen
• The love of democracy is that of equality - Charles de Montesquieu

Now, for my last barb and jab before the election.
Is a Richmond Hill candidate targeting me?
When I read what Ward 5 incumbent Elio Di Iorio wrote in his blog in the spring, I nearly fell on the floor and broke my 61-year-old neck.   
Here’s what Di Iorio wrote: 
“Seniors and baby boomers are influencing policy and youth are not. So, you are paying for their drugs and diapers. They make us chase youth around, busting them for noise, pot, beer, skateboarding, whatever — busting grow-ops while their Viagra, Celebrex and other pharmaceuticals come at the cost of your post-secondary education.”
When the quote was read out at an all-candidates meeting attended by Richmond Hill seniors last week, Mr. Di Iorio didn’t do the honourable thing and run for cover.
Instead, Mr. Di Iorio stood up proud as punch and had this to say:
“It’s something I wrote in a moment of frustration. Some of the things I said are overstated and I didn’t mean to offend anyone. I apologize if I offended anyone.”
One resident yelled, “You’re toast.”
Mr. Di Iorio. I have a message for you.
Providing I can tear myself away from wild sex and, at the same time, can keep from wetting my pants long enough to hobble to the polls,  I’d like to deliver a “good luck, good riddance message” to you.
In case Mr. Di Iorio gets frustrated again, here’s some advice:  When you’re getting run out of town, get out in front and call it a parade.
Then again, you might stick with your re-election campaign. You might fool the young. Since the kids are stoned, drunk and obsessed with skateboarding, they’re easy to influence. 
P.S. A heartfelt thanks to candidates who told the truth, respected each other, acted in the best interest of the community and never lost their sense of humour.
Take a bow.

You'd think it was a simple request

Is King Township mayoralty candidate Stephen Pellegrini avoiding me on purpose?
I’ll let you decide.
Three weeks ago, Stephen Gleason of King questioned Mr. Pellegrini about his education. Mr. Gleason said Mr. Pellegrini’s campaign brochure gives the impression that he has a Master of Business Administration degree. Meanwhile, Mr. Gleason stated Mr. Pellegrini has “no other university education”.
I called Mr. Pellegrini.
The candidate told me he held a degree in urban and economic geography from the University of Toronto. Mr. Pellegrini also said he has a certificate in information technology from the McGill University in Montreal. I included this information in an earlier blog entry.
Another King Township resident called and insisted that despite what my blog states, Mr. Pellegrini does not hold a degree from the University of Toronto.
I then made two calls to Mr. Pellegrini, leaving a message at his home and another with his campaign manager, stating that I wanted to ask Mr. Pellegrini a follow-up question about his education.
I also sent two e-mails to Mr. Pellegrini, asking to speak to him.
Mr. Pellegrini failed to answer.
On Tuesday, I placed a second call to campaign manager Andrea Loeppky. I was told Mr. Pellegrini is too busy to answer my questions.
In 30 years of covering elections at the municipal, provincial and federal level, I’ve never had a candidate or a campaign manager refuse to answer my questions.
This was, indeed unusual. Naturally, I decided to carry on doing my job. 
On Wednesday, I placed a call to the University of Toronto.
According to the information provided, which was the name Stephen John Pellegrini, the University of Toronto cannot find a record of a degree from the university.
Barbara Patterson, University of Toronto’s factuality of arts registrar, suggested I contact Mr. Pellegrini and in her words, “inform him that the University of Toronto is unable to verify his degree.”
I then called Mr. Pellegrini’s campaign manager again. This was the conversation.
You be the judge.

Listen to Audio

Who needs an election when there's ferret-legging

Here’s the main rule: No underpants; no boxers; no jock straps; no granny bloomers; no thongs - nothing whatsoever.
Here’s how the game will be played:
York Region chairman Bill Fisch invites mayor candidates from across our nine municipalities to step on to the stage.
With the help of municipal CAOs, the mayor hopefuls’ pants will be tied off at the ankles.
Let the drum role begin: 
Animal control officers from Georgina will step forward and drop a vicious fur-coated, foot-long ferret down the pants of each of the mayoralty candidates. 
Ontario Minister of Municipal Affairs will then announce that the election has been cancelled and the English game called ferret-legging will determine who’ll wear mayoral chains for the next four years.
Belts will be tightened. Candidates will stand there as long as they can, while animals with claws like hypodermic needles and teeth like carpet tacks try their damnedest to get out.
To be fair, the candidates will each carry a white handkerchief in a back pocket. When they can’t take it any more, they’ll wave the hanky in surrender.
Here’s what we can expect.
In Markham:
Frank Scarpitti will be tipped off and turn up wearing tight leather pants. The tipster will fail to mention that skin huggers won’t help. Frank, know this and know it now: The little bastards have to move around inside from ankle to ankle.
Partap Dua will file discrimination charges against the ferret, the chairman of the region, the Minister of Municipal Affairs, all the CEOs, the animal control officers, the other candidates, the janitor and all the voters.
Since Sam Orrico’s in jail, the ferret will show mercy and curl up and go to sleep. 
In Richmond Hill
Dave Barrow will follow the rules: no filing of teeth, no clipping of nails and no doping for him or the ferret. And, no getting drunk. Barrow will be the first to announce that he has a lot to lose.
Since ferrets live by this code: what’s theirs is theirs and what’s yours is up for grabs, David McCann will cut his loses and head for the hills.
Ramon Datol and Anastasios Baxevanidis will both bank on the ferret finding buried treasurers, pull in the claws and play.
In Whitchurch-Stouffville
Even though incumbent Sue Sherban will yell, stomp her feet and thrown herself on the floor, the ferret won’t care.
Just as the ferret is being dropped down Wayne Emmerson’s pants, the candidate will whack it over the head with a two-by-four. The lumber salesman/former mayor will then go at it with a nail gun. It’ll turn into a bloody mess, the judges will quit. 
Pamela Courtot will call the little weasel a victim of injustice and try to turn it into a pacifist. Meanwhile, Randy Mole will write a 72-page letter demanding the little fury corporate bugger vacate his pants immediately or face an Ontario Municipal Board hearing. 
Don Barber comes to the race with an edge. In real life, Barber is the head of a ferret- rescue club. He’s the only candidate who respects the fact ferrets are the only creature known to mankind to kill for kicks. 
Not to worry, Barber always wears protection. 
In Vaughan
Surprise. Surprise. Michael Di Biase will rub baby oil all over his legs hoping the damned ferret slips and slides himself to death before discovering anything important.
Paul Stewart’s and Savino Quetela’s ferrets will leave nothing to the imagination All things will be inspected. In the end, Stewart and Quetela will vow never to run for public office again. It’s just too painful.   
The hurt won’t phase Linda Jackson. As long as her ferret doesn’t hack into her e-mail, she’ll put up a good fight.
In Georgina
Peter Juras is no fool: He knows that when it comes to ferrets, anything that can be turned over or dragged off, no matter the size, is fair game. Juras will promise to find his ferret a wife. The life-saving idea being: the pair will prance, dance and wrestle each other, leaving anything that belongs to Juras alone.
When it comes to protecting the family jewels, there’s none better than Georgina’s incumbent Rob Grossi. He’ll simply drop his pants, stand naked from the waist down and look every bit a winner.
In Newmarket
Tony Van Bynen will grab his ferret by the neck, pull it out of his pants, slip out the back door and try to sell it.
Diane Springstein will be so busy trying to find out how much Van Bynen got in the sale, she’ll fail to notice the ferret chewed off her right leg.
Wendy Thibideau, John Ashworth and Michael Cascione will consider forming a coup, executing the ferrets and hightailing it out of Newmarket. Instead, the three will wave the white hanky six seconds into the game. 
In Aurora
Loyal to nothing that lives, the ferret will have his way with Aurora incumbent Tim Jones. Tim won’t mind. He’s use to biting, knawing and pouncing. Tim will do what Tim does best: ignore it in the hope  it will go away someday.
Phyllis Morris will be quick to announce that while ferret legging comes from her homeland, she’s never played the game. “When my ferret tires out, and it will, I’ll hang it on the line to dry,”  Phyllis will promise.
Meanwhile, Nigel Kean will just drop to his knees and pray.
In East Gwillimbury
Incumbent Jamie Young knows the ferret has the spinal flexibility of a snake and the jaws of a pitbull. It’s OK, unless Jamie wants more children.
Golf course owner John Hayes will yell “Fore”,  hoping the ferret ducks in all the right places, while Walied Zekry will bite his bottom lip, fight back the tears and ask himself why on Earth he wanted to be mayor.
In King
Incumbent Margaret Black will threaten her ferret with an after- life in the Big Pipe.
Mark Healy will plead with his ferret to make its journey as fast and as pain free as possible.
The first time the ferret sinks its teeth into Steve Pellegrini, it’ll get rabies.
So, who do you think will win the ferret legging election?