The Polish Diaspora, is today racked in sadness and sorrow,

For leaders and heroes are not those a country can borrow.

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In Babel, we did predict there’d be a time of milk and honey,

A younger mayor we did predict that we’d be on the money.

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Mr. Harper denies that Guergis’ husband had special access,

Even if he did, Harper has to deny, staying clear of the mess.

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The mayor has called an extraordinary meeting of Babel City Council. This is the first time since 1939 when the Babel council declared war on Germany and its allies that an extraordinary council meeting had been called.

“But what is it all about?” the city clerk kept insisting. “If you are going to try to declare war on someone, I can tell you now that it won’t work. It didn’t have any authority in 1939 and it won’t have any authority today.”

“Don’t you worry your little head about it, missy,” the mayor told her. “Everyone is going to find out in due time that they have the most brilliant mayor in Canada. I am going to single-handed solve all our financial problems. Instead of paying taxes, the good citizens of Babel are going to earn a dividend every year from their city.”

The city clerk finally gave up and went off to add more details to her planned sexual harassment suit against the mayor. To her surprise, all ten councillors said they would attend the mayor’s extraordinary meeting. “We have waited a long time, wondering if he would ever do anything,” one of the wise men explained.

The meeting got underway with every councillor’s seat filled, an overflow of media and standing room only for public who had been advised of the strange goings on. The mayor, resplendent in his chain of office, banged his gavel, and called his extraordinary meeting to order.

“I want to tell you how I have solved all the financial problems for our city. It is brilliant,” he told them. “Starting January one, next year, this will no longer be Babel—I never liked that name anyway. We are going to have an auction in December and all the businesses in Babel will have an opportunity to bid for the naming rights. If Walmart, for example, wins the bidding, this will be Walmart, Ontario for the next year. We will get old theatre marquees for the main roads coming in to town and we will use old theatre lettering to identify us as Walmart for the next year. The next year, maybe Rona will outbid Walmart and we will be Rona, Ontario.”

There were some scatted “Bu-bu-bu-buts…” around the council chambers but the mayor continued:

“And to further show my brilliance, we are not going to stop there. I want our gem of a bay renamed. Just think, we could make money when it is called ‘Peoples’ Credit Bay’ for the coming year.

“And the brilliance doesn’t stop there,” he explained. “Instead of paying taxes, every land owner will have the opportunity to name his street, or at least the block where the property is located. Each year homeowners will have a chance to have their name on their street. We can also name the Five Points for a local business. City hall is such a blah name for such a nice building, it can also go up for bids. What developer would not want city hall named for his company? And, while we are at it, we could include city-owned yacht clubs, community centres, hockey arenas, fire halls, the police station, golf clubs, the possibilities seem endless.”

By now the chorus of “Bu-bu-bu-buts,” were getting louder. “But how would anybody ever find their way around the city?” one of the wise men finally asked.

“Ahhh, that’s the beauty of my scheme,” the mayor explained. “Babel needs new industry and my scheme will create many industries, not the least of which is a new map company to bring out annual maps for citizens and tourists alike. It will also cause a boom in global positioning systems (GPS) sales as we will have to switch the post office over to GPS addresses.

“I have had the accountants work on this and I can tell you that in the first year alone, we will reduce realty taxes by approximately a third. The spin-off into local industry will improve Babel’s gross city economy by as much as 9.07 per cent the first year. Now, tell me, is your mayor brilliant or not?” he added.

One of the wise men rose up and glared at the mayor. “Well, I think it’s the dumbest, most hair-brained idea, I have ever heard,” he said.

“Oh,” the mayor responded, “You obviously have a much better idea. Why don’t you tell us about it?”

– 30 –

Complaints, comments, criticisms and compliments can be sent to [email protected]

Spring has come to Babel, the ice gone from the bay,

You awaken every morning to another beautiful day.

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Mr. Harris asked: Who will rid me of this indian troublemaker?

The former Tory premier said: I never meant ‘return to maker.’

What brings Mike Harris to mind today is a story in the paper,

Of the vulgar amount of money he gets as a retired tax fighter.

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It certainly caused a stir. The CC-177 Globemaster III aircraft thundered down the bay towards downtown Babel, a bare three metres over the whitecaps. Narrowly missing the towering condominiums at the west end of the bay, the pilot boosted power to raise the monster aircraft over the southern hills of Babel. The roar over the city was deafening. The mayor had returned.

Instead of simply having the huge Canadian Forces plane land and leave him at Base Borden, the mayor donned a rubberized suit and a parachute. Checking winds and ground information, the pilot started a slower and higher run down the bay. He lowered the back loading ramp to further slow the plane until it was nearing a stall.

The city clerk was hard pressed to quickly assemble enough Babel police in dress uniforms for an honour guard, round up the city’s cadet marching band and collect representatives of the fire department with their rescue boats. The mayor had to be welcomed home in style and, just maybe, saved from drowning.

Regrettably, everything went well. The mayor just about had heart failure when he realized that the pilot had signalled him to walk off the ramp directly above one of the older condominiums at the west end of the bay. In panic, he pulled at the rip cord of his chute. As the chute billowed out and the breeze caught him, he realized the wind was taking him back out over the Centennial fountain. And if he had not lifted his rump at the last second, he would have been seated rather painfully atop the Christmas tree that topped the fountain for the winter months.

“That stupid tree is coming down earlier next year,” the mayor told himself as he splashed down about 30 metres past the fountain. He was quickly picked up by the police marine rescue unit and whisked to the government dock where the wise men and other city officials were in attendance.

Looking quite dapper and dry in his Glengarry plaid suit, the mayor jumped lightly to shore. “I have returned,” he announced quite unnecessarily.

The band struck up a rather discordant version of Hail to the Chief and the mayor proceeded to inspect the honour guard of the five Babel police officers who have dress uniforms. It would have gone well if the mayor, indulging in a bit of Babel humour, had not told the third officer in line, “Harry, yer fly is open.”

The city clerk did a curtsy and the wise men bowed or curtsied as they wished. The mayor frowned at the city clerk and then turned his attention to the wise men.

“I wus enjoyin’ a great feast of Polish sausages and Polish beer and next thing I know that plane was rerouted from a mercy flight to pick me up at the Warsaw airport. Our Member of Parliament sent a note saying I better get back home ‘cus youse guys is saying nasty things about me,” he said.

“And, you in particular,” he said eying the wise man who had been acting mayor. “Here I give you a chance to be noticed by the voters and all you did was crab about my not telling you I was going out of town. I told the clerk and she told you when you needed to know. You know that this town is run on a ‘need to know’ basis. And I determine who needs to know and what they need to know.”

With details out of the way, the wise men gathered around the mayor to reassure him of their continued loyalty—for at least the rest of his term—and to sing: For he’s a jolly good fellow. Once again, there is peace in Babel.

– 30 –

Complaints, comments, criticisms and compliments can be sent to [email protected]

The fence at Five Points needs examination,

That’s not a patio, it’s an ugly abomination.

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Harper is considering résumés for the Governor General’s position,

All you have to do is dismiss Parliament and ignore the opposition.

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Ms. Helena Guergis is the present MP for Simcoe-Grey,

If asked about her tantrums, she says it’s just her way.

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