Goddammit, The Globe: Ford Nation accuse you of cheap shots all the time! Don’t actually make them! And at the end of a nice, weekend edition story about people going on nice, weekend strolls? Is that the time and place to make digs at the mayor? Why not in an article from “sources with direct knowledge” (yeah, THAT’S believable) with hilarious phrases like “The boring machines”.Good thing we’re having a name contest to make them more exciting. Also, way to match a picture of a guy in a wheelchair with the words “push out”.
Was everyone away for the weekend except the co-op student? Wait, I’m being ridiculous. It’s July! The co-op student was gone a month ago. Speaking of summer vacation, Elizabeth Renzietti has decided that the way to criticize city hall is passive aggressive “letters to friends from out of town who are visiting Toronto”:
But in the Sun, all the aggression is out in the open, when Toronto gets attacked by Jason:
Toronto Sun commentors are so riled up with bloodlust that they literally (not politically) move to the left:
Darth Vader calls a vet a moron! Then one of the local middle schools send their study hall regulars in to punch it out about who’s a lesbian who can’t have the mayor at her parade. They grow up so fast!
Speaking of punching it out, here’s an article that isn’t so much news as channeling Bukowski. And if all that “hooker! Crack! Working girl! Crack!” wasn’t enough to satisfy your basest reading urges, HERE’S A GOOD ONE.
Too much for you to stomach? Cool off with the soothing Peter Worthington waxing poetic about his soldier dog.
But what about the real issues? Where does the Sun stand on their sovereign, Rupert Murdoch? Well, not much- except in one editorial, where Snobelen manages to say that Murdoch is the same as Dalton McGuinty.
The Globe’s Murdoch coverage was miraculously handed over to Margaret Wente, who chose to take the high road. Wente’s perspective on Murdoch: the classier end of a Harlequin romance.
Over at the National Post, it’s MURDOCH! MURDOCH! MURDOCH!
From the expected to nattering on and on about Vietnam and Nuremberg because the difference is ambiguous when you only have contempt for your readers, and you can wash it all down with some great “Murdoch doesn’t live here anymore” at the expense of Dwight Duncan.
In the increasingly erudite Toronto Star, Salutin writes utter gobbledygook about what he thinks you’re doing with “computers” in response to the Murdoch hearing: to sum up, “discarnate” is the same thing as virtual which is the same as being a ghost but in a computer. Then you get reincarnated when it’s time to do something socially useful, like overthrow the government of Egypt or- get this- throw a pie at Rupert Murdoch. This dates back to ancient Rome and we also saw it in the French Revolution. People were able to do this before Twitter. Will the Spanish free Greece?
No! I don’t know what any of it meant either! In Salutin’s own words (maybe this is the punchline-solution to this semantic jumble-puzzle):
So whatever Saultin’s having, give it to the rest of the Star’s staff. Because they literally will not shut up about Rob Goddamn Ford. The Star will tell you that “the man” won’t talk to them.
Also that even the man’s cronies won’t talk to them.
There was a time when Toronto thought electing LeDrew was a hilarious joke.
Now, in 2011, records are being set for the number of times the word “gravy” appears in a single newspaper.
The cuts won’t work, anyway: science says the economy is bad because our dicks are too big.
(PS: read the comments!)