Crosbie — the orchid destined to be overlooked
Finally, a would-be politician who admits that he is not perfect.
Do you think that we should give him a chance?
Not bloody likely!
You see, what we desire is perfection. We will settle for nothing less. And since we are already drowning in perfection, Ches Crosbie doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of becoming our next premier.
Dwight has it in the bag. At 51 per cent in the polls and rising. And with Prime Minister Justin Trudeau garnering over 70 per cent support in this province, what better could we ask for? Teamwork personified.
So there ya go. Two bullies are better than one. They knock us down, help us up so that we can show our gratitude, then they knock us down again. Some gullible we are! Gluttons for punishment. But then, us Newfies always were a “turn the other cheek” kind of Liberal subservients. When the bully punches us our response is more receptive to more bullying. “Go ahead. Hit me again.”
So Ches, me son, I’m sorry. You’re not good enough. Dwight and Justin still have a couple of terms left in them before their petals wither and we discard them to the compost heap. But for now, they’ll keep “leading us down the garden path” toward the bramble bushes and the thorny roses. And you, Ches Crosbie, will be the orchid that we overlooked.
The same can be said for Andrew Scheer. Another imperfect politician.
He’s a Conservative, so there has to be something wrong with him, at least in the eyes of the pundits from The Rock.
Another orchid will be trampled underfoot as we opt for the thorny rose. It has happened before, you know. To Robert Stanfield. Beaten down by Pierre Elliot Trudeau three times, and in retrospect he has been touted as “the best prime minister Canada never had.” And the Trudeau legacy lives on, for better or worse.
And then there was Tom Rideout, who crawled out of the thorny rose bush to bloom in the orchid patch. Didn’t last long, did he? As soon as we got the chance we cast him aside for another perfect specimen of a rose named Clyde Wells.
Personally, I liked Tom. And I like Ches.
But my opinion don’t matter much. You see, I’m not perfect neither. So don’t give up Ches. Don’t let this old codger deter you. I’ve been wrong before. I remember it well. Sixty years ago, when I was in Grade 3, I got a damn good strapping because I spelled a word wrong. A simple little word. “Can.” And I “Couldn’t.”
Now you talk about being bullied. Legally. But I got over it eventually. And so will the rest of you Newfies, I hope.
In the meantime, I think I’ll move to Gooseberry Island and hold a referendum to separate and form my own little republic. But then that won’t work either. Sure, I’ll have to take Norma with me, and she’ll vote against me for sure.
She knows more that anybody else how imperfect I am.
Wilbur Dean Random Heights Random Island