Ontario minister of health George Smitherman was seen ambling among the throng pre–Pride. Unlike the last time I saw him – at Woody’s, where he held deep discussions with a young constituent on matters of mutual interest – I carpéd the diem.

– Does that ring mean you aren’t single anymore?
– Oh, I’m always single!
[Holds out the giant bling, reminiscent of Rufus Wainwright’s brooches, but almond-shaped and gold]
– I’ve worn this for, oh [exhales], 21 years?
– Ah. Because I’ve always found you attractive, but when you became minister of health, I figured you’d be too busy.
– I’m married to my work!
– Yeah. I’d be the other woman.
– I’ve got 45 minutes a day to myself!
– And here we are.

I blink and the minister of health disappears. “He looks a bit drunk. Or high,” I tell my esteemed colleague.

“And fat,” he replies.


The foregoing posting appeared on Joe Clark’s personal Weblog on 2005.06.25 00:56. This presentation was designed for printing and omits components that make sense only onscreen. (If you are seeing this on a screen, then the page stylesheet was not loaded or not loaded properly.) The permanent link is:

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None. I quit.

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