I Enjoy Con Apologists These Days, Fun & Funny

I've been enjoying the self-satire the Nat Post, Taylor & Conbots, Globe's MacGregor, etc. have been serving up. MacGregor, I don't know if he's gone senile or just lost all hope for mankind or genuinely likes Harper now because hockey geek or if it's all part of a master plan to make Dryden leader, in his own mind (I proposed Dryden myself, once upon a time, but that ship has sailed). But every week now, MacGregor composes another requiem, this last one must be Requiem No. XXVI or something, a stitched together assortment of ramblings on The Land, The People, and The Sad or Not-So-Sad Inevitable Perpetual Domination of Stephen Harper, PRIME MINISTER! I've come to love them. "I was snow shoeing in Gatineau Park and the pines whispered to me that Stephen Joseph Harper Esq., MSc., PRIME MINISTER, is our anointed leader evermore, whether by the Devil or by God, I cannot say. I sighed as the birds twittered this self-evident truth in the crisp January air, and wondered why anyone even bothers to waste their & our time fighting against fate? All this noisome fuss when we would be better off accepting the world for what it is, with all its faults, and enjoying the simple things in life, like the sound of skates on ice, skis cutting across bright fields of snow and best of all, the gulping of a bottle of beer while watching the Olympics on TV, insensate. Etc." MacGregor was really quite good, excellent even, in the late 1980s & early 1990s, doing nice colour pieces on sports & politics, concerned with character & leadership, their presence in sport & absence in politics. But his last couple of years haven't been great. The style and view is still there, but he can't quite seem to get a grip on events anymore. I hope he makes a comeback because I used to relish reading him. But right now, and I feel a bit wicked saying this, I'm sorry, but I absolutely love his incoherent meandering requiems. It's like something from a British comedy about a local journalist who has decided to spend his last years writing only about bird-watching, no matter what his editors & colleagues say. "Saw a tit willow this morning. The same as yesterday? Or different? As my old Harrow master used to say, as he gave me rather strict personal hands-on tutoring, Omnia mutantur nos et mutamur in illis. Etc."