… which is kind of like headlining an article “Gravity: still around” or “Sun expected to rise in a.m.”

I am slightly puzzled by the difference in reaction to slovenly turnip cabmin Claudette Bradshaw, and slick weasel cabmin Allan Rock. Both have their palms greased by the Irving family. Rock is sneaky. Bradshaw is slightly sneaky, but then turns around and gets the government–read, me–to pay for her greasing.

All of a sudden Bradshaw is Sweet Holy Purity, and Rock remains Toronto Scum.

So if Rock had me write a check for his payoff (via Revenue Canada), that would be fine.

Wait a minute! Why doesn’t Bradshaw have to pay for her two-adjoining-seat flight herself? Why is it so wonderful to have me pay for it? Frankly it makes me question Allan Rock’s intelligence, not his morality. If all he had to do to seem Simon Pure was to have the taxpayer pay for his back rub, I don’t know why he didn’t. Seems I have no say in the matter anyway. Maybe I should just cut out the middleman and write Irving a check.