June is Justin Trudeau’s Happy Time. For June is Pride Month, when our Boy-Emperor gurns, prances and paints his face with a rainbow—demonstrating his love to the people who love him back the best, the gays. All good Canadians love Justin, but the gays really put on a show, dressing up in colourful costumes or stripping down to their Speedos, as the case might be.
— Kevin Michael Grace (@KMGVictoria) June 26, 2017
Kathleen Wynne, on the other hand, doesn’t seem very gay at all, and she scares Justin a little. He would never tell a soul (well, perhaps Gerald) that she reminds him of the wicked witch in a story his father used to read him. Justin’s not very good at titles, but he thinks it was called Handsome and Greta.
— Kevin Michael Grace (@KMGVictoria) June 26, 2017
Justin wishes every month could be Pride Month. But it kinda is, almost, because Vancouver doesn’t have its Pride Parade until August! But that’s because British Columbia uses a different calendar than the rest of Canadia. Justin was a substitute teacher in Vancouver, so he knows these things.
July 1 will be fun, too. Another celebration, this time the 150th anniversary of when Canadia defeated the Yanks in the War of 1812 and established the Peaceable Kingdom. Justin wonders how Canada could be a kingdom when we’ve had a Queen, like, forever. But he expresses this unease to no one, not even Gerald because he fears that Gerald would get mad at him. Justin remembers Gerald getting mad at him and shudders. Gerald can be so cruel.
Justin is excited because Bono and The Edge will be there. He has prepared a joke, one he can hardly wait to tell. “So it’s not the whole band—just you two?” Justin imagines the Irishmen laughing with him (not at him!) and smiles. Justin doesn’t listen to U2; that’s old people music. Justin likes disco, just like his Mom. Which songs? Again, he’s not very good at titles; he just adores the whole experience: the pounding beat, the mirror ball, the glitter and the bubbles, the sweating and glowing young men.
Despite their different musical tastes, Justin has enormous respect for Bono, who is a Great Man. Back in the ancient times, the 1990s, there was this terrible disease called polio, which turned people’s lungs into iron. Can you imagine that?! And then Bono called together all the world’s leaders and scientists and said, “Oi! Sort this out, you lot!” They did, and later, in an extraordinary one-time-only event, Bono won all the Nobel Prizes. Justin likes Bono almost as much as his late Uncle Fidel.
It’s a long time between Canadia Day and Vancouver Pride—more than 19 days—and Justin is sad in his heart thinking about it. Then he thinks of his socks, of all the wonderful socks no one has yet seen, and his heart is filled to bursting with gladness. But then he remembers that Gerald says it’s time to lay off the socks because the Toronto Star said so.
Justin isn’t allowed to read the newspapers or surf the Internet, except for the bits about fashion and gossip. Back in the ancient days, people made fun of Justin because he said that if anything important happened, someone would tell him. And it’s true! Just yesterday, he heard that Rihanna has finally, maybe, found her true love. Haters say that her new guy is a rich, spoiled brat, but that’s what they used to say about Justin, and look where he ended up! After he became an MP, Justin did try to read the newspapers, but it was hard for him, especially as they made jokes he didn’t understand, like calling a bunch of nobody countries “the Baltics.” Gerald says that he’ll tell Justin everything he needs to know, which is a pretty good deal because Gerald is the smartest man in the room. He says this a lot.
When Justin was in Grade One, all the other boys and girls laughed at him when he couldn’t count past 19. They got a good telling off by the teacher, but Justin was inconsolable. So the Principal sat down with him and explained that a boy like Justin needn’t worry his little head about numbers. “The Liberal Party always looks after its own, my boy,” he said. Justin dried his tears and smiled.
He’s not smiling now. First they tell him he can’t wear awesome socks anymore, and now they’re bugging again him about numbers. Justin said during the election campaign that he would grow the economy not from the top down like Stephen Harper but from the heart outwards. What could be clearer than that? If the people of Canadia thought numbers were so great, they would have elected Harper, that totally not-cool flabby old man with his joke suits and Magicuts hair. But, more than 19 days later, they elected Justin.
And since that time, Justin has ♥ed the economy just as hard as he could, innovating infrastructure all over the place. He was worried when he found out that all this infrastructural innovotation was “blowing up the deficit,” that there was far too much red ink, with black ink a long way away, more than 19 years even. Justin complained to Gerald, “How can the deficit blow up? Deficits are unflammable. And why are black numbers better than red numbers? Sounds a little racist to me.” Gerald replied, “Don’t worry your little head about it. Stick to the talking points, boy.”
He did as he was told. “We are focused, not on the immediate short term, but on the long term,” Justin said. “We don’t see the value in, you know, touting…numbers.” It was like the Baltics all over again. Justin could swear he heard someone in the room laugh, probably someone from the socks-hating Toronto Star.
“We are focussed, not on the immediate short term, but on the long term,” PM says. “We don’t see the value in, you know, touting… numbers”
— Paul Wells (@InklessPW) June 27, 2017
Not for the first time, Justin felt he’d made a terrible mistake. Life in Vancouver was simple. Whenever he fell off his snowboard, he got right back on again. Whenever some student would point out that Man and Superman is not about the Man of Steel, he’d make of joke of it, and the girls would giggle and blush. But now, Justin was once again up against his Kryptonite, and nothing that Gerald could say would heal his wounded heart. Justin swore foully. “Fucking numbers, how do they work, eh?”