The More Embarrassing the Better

The fact that Belinda Stronach is running for the leadership of the Conservative Party of Canada (and beware the dropping of "progressive" folks, because they're anything but now) should not come as a surprise. Ms Stronach has the money, the time and obviously the chutzpah to do it. She's connected with a number of major political figures, and has shown a clear interest in dallying in the political arena, what with her recent backroom dealings playing Dr. Frankenstein to build this new political monster.

Hey if you build it, why not take it for a little spin and show it off to your friends?

No, what was most surprising was the pure venom and vitriol expressed by more than a few pundits and scribes over her decision. She'll embarrass herself, make a mockery of the party, the democratic process itself and most likely life as we know it. My God, you'd think she'd announced she was changing her name to Paul Martin.

But I ask you: since when has the media ever cared a whit whether someone embarrasses themselves in public? It's like a lawyer being upset over rising divorce rates.

Public embarrassment is the lifeblood of political journalism. The more a politician sticks his or her foot in their mouth, the more there is to scribble, gripe, and chuckle over; and the more firmly planted the better. Travel pictures of bleary-eyed drunken premiers, tales of corruption and sordid dealings, and the occasional blunt insult toward a world leader who could squash you like a bug if he was so inclined get plastered across the front pages of newspapers on a daily basis. People behaving badly are newsworthy, interesting, and about as easy to form an opinion over as it is to kick a sleeping cat.

Yet a suddenly caring, sympathetic media is concerned that Ms Stronach has no experience, is a political neophyte, and by her own admission does not know a damn thing about the military. Well the same applies to John McCallum, the one-time bank executive who wouldn't know a Sea King from a kingfisher and has been providing all sorts of fun and ink getting thrown off planes and contradicting his boss.

That's former Canadian Defense Minister John McCallum, by the way, and I don't ever remember anyone criticizing his right to run, get elected, and make a fool of himself on the national stage.

And if you were to believe everyone from NDP leader Jack Layton to the local obit writer from the Podunk Times, the only two people of wealth in Canadian politics are Paul Martin and Belinda Stronach. The rest of the hard-working, underpaid lot live in rusting vans down by the Ottawa River, competing with the Canada geese for breadcrumbs and gnawing on tulips.

Well here's a news flash: politics is a game played mostly by the well-educated and well-off. Most of Parliament Hill is populated by people with law degrees, and there are no poor lawyers; it's against the law, and they should know. The rest are people of business or long-term political junkies who have been living very well as civil servants or ministerial aids for some time. What they don't reap as ministers and MPs, they reap as executive board members or ambassadors and senators thereafter. They eat well and live well, and contrary to what he'd like you to think, Jack Layton does not live in a cardboard box or anything close to it.

Belinda will fit in just fine, thank you.

But will she make a fool of herself? Oh most likely, and I couldn't be happier, though not because I like to see rich people out of their element writhing about like beached squid (though Lord Black's troubles have provided no end of entertainment), or that I want this new party to sink as far as it can (it's well on its way, what with the fifty-ton weight that is Alberta conservatism strapped to its ankle). No, I'm happy to have Belinda along for the ride because winter can be a long season and until now politics in this country has been about as exciting to follow as a paint drying competition in the Amazon rainforest.

Once faced with the prospect of a glassy-eyed Stephen Harper, who has all the charisma of a soggy wetnap, facing off against Tony Clement, a failure on the provincial scene who's decided to take his sorry act onto the national stage, we now get to watch these two decide whether or not to lay into Belinda Stronach in a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don't scenario that would have a modern-day Hamlet convulsing in fits. Do you rip into the pretty little rich girl who is drawing sympathy and paternal concern from media and voters alike? Or do you treat her with kid gloves and piss off every feminist and equal rights activist this side of the Atlantic for not treating her with the due respect that you would any other candidate?

Hot damn, folks! It looks like we finally have ourselves a game worth watching...pass the popcorn.