The Mailbag: Conrad Black, New Sex Moves, Aaron Wherry’s madness

Welcome to the Tuesday Mailbag on Wednesday, where we’re still not sure what the hell happened last night on Lost (two Jacks? are we sure the space-time continuum can survive that much eye moisture?) but we are sure of one thing: it’s hard to imagine anything as funny as the Lost clip show that traditionally proceeds the season premiere. Believe me – I know a little bit about funny, in that a) I get paid to write a “humour” column, and b) I’ve seen Stephen Harper in a T-shirt. And nothing – with the possible exception of Stephen Harper in a T-shirt – is as hilarious as trying to picture a Lost virgin sitting down and thinking to himself, “Okay, I’m going to invest an hour in this thing and then I’ll be completely up to speed for the final season.”

Plane crash. Island. Polar bear. Flirting. Smoke monster. Crazy French chick. Mysterious billionaire. Mysterious energy pocket. Mysterious code that apparently saves the world, unless it doesn’t. Shipwreck. Mercenaries. Explosions. Big stone foot. Death. More death. DEATH. Mascara Eyeliner Guy. Time travel. Nosebleeds. Hippies. Book club. Hydrogen Bomb. Boom. Go.

The queries below were submitted by readers. Remember – there are no stupid questions, except for the question of whether that Toyota hurtling toward you in your rear view mirror is going to stop in time.


Dear Scott:

Wherry’s writing about American Idol, and presumably has to watch it to do so. Did he tell Coyne he didn’t like proportional representation or something? What gives? – WDM


This is kind of awkward, so come on over here out of earshot. I don’t want Wherry to hear.

[Whispering.] Okay, listen. Here’s the thing. Late last year, Aaron was getting pretty upset about rumours of prorogation. The thought of having to go three whole months without a daily forum in which to describe John Baird as an arrogant gas-sack – frankly, it gave him the shakes. It affected him mentally, if you catch my drift. He kept coming up to Wells, looking for reassurance.

Aaron: Tell us about the Parliament, Paul.

Paul: Aww, Aaron, come on.

Aaron: Tell us, tell us. We’re gonna have us a Parliament, and I’m gonna cover it, right Paul?

Paul: We’re gonna get us a little democracy.

Aaron: Okay, yeah, we’re gonna get a little democracy and we’re gonna…

Paul (though Aaron mouths along): We gonna have bills, and some committees, and we’re gonna have, maybe – maybe, a Question Period or two. Down there we’ll have a little patch of…

Aaron: Patch of alfalfa for the rabbits.

Paul: …for the rabbits. [Pause.] The what now?

Aaron: And I get to tend the rabbits and I…

Wells was supposed to shoot him in the head at this point, but suddenly he realized it would be much funnier to tell Aaron that Parliament was in session – but that he had to watch it on TV at nighttime. Oh, and now it’s a musical and there’s a British guy for some reason.

Long story short: Do not let Wherry stroke Ellen DeGeneres’s hair.


Dear Scott:

Who put the bomp in the bomp-bah-bomp-bah-bomp? – Sean

Sean –

Way to go, doofus. Way to blab to the whole world that there’s bomp in the bomp-bah-bomp-bah-bomp. Don’t give a moment’s thought to the fact that centuries ago a secret order of bearded magi decreed that the ingredients of the bomp-bah-bomp-bah-bomp were to remain strictly confidential, like the Colonel’s secret recipe, McDonald’s special sauce and whatever concoction of psychotropic substances we must have ingested to arrive at the collective belief that Sarah Jessica Parker is pretty.

Sure, Sean: one might assume there’s some bomp in the bomp-bah-bomp-bah-bomp. A math whiz might even deduce that the bomp-bah-bomp-bah-bomp contains three parts bomp to two parts bah. Or perhaps I’ve said too much. I’d best stop typing: One more clue and there won’t be any revelations left for Dan Brown’s next novel.

P.S. So far as you’re concerned, Sean, you can neither confirm nor deny that there’s ram in the rama-lama-ding-dong… or else <throat-slashy gesture>


Dear Scott:

Since the people of Wiarton, Ontario first discovered that their town groundhog could predict the end of winter, Canada has had 18 federal general elections. Nine of those elections have occurred in shadow seeing years and nine have been in non-shadow seeing years. Conservative parties have won four elections during shadow years and four during non-shadow seeing years. The Liberal Party has won five during shadow years and five during non-shadow seeing years. This morning Willie saw his shadow so my question based on that is…Will there be an election this year and if so who will win it? – Davey Jones

Davey Jones –

I sort of dozed off there during the stats-heavy part of your query: I believe you were asking about the proper care of a ficus plant. Ample humidity, regular misting, avoid overwatering. You’re welcome.

A better question would have been about groundhogs.


Dear Scott:

What is the sexiest Winter Olympic sport? – CR

CR –

I will be in a much better position to provide an answer to this question (answer: curling) in a little more than a week, when I will actually be in Vancouver and Whistler to actually report on the actual Olympics. (Sorry, “report.”) Why is Maclean’s sending me to the Olympics? I assume it’s because every other staff member has been stricken by the gout. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.

Wells and Coyne will be there, too. I reckon they’ll be holding one of their high-falutin’ thinky-talky-forums where they tackle pressing issues like “Whither Biathlon?” or “Luge v. Bobsleigh: Which Goes Downhillier?” Olympic fever: catch it!


Dear Scott:

With the tsunamis, Katrina, earthquakes in China and now Haiti, and the fact that attractive women in bars don’t bump up against me like they used to, I’m beginning to wonder if God has abandoned His children. What do you think? – Troubled

Troubled –

It’s not God’s fault you’re not getting bumped into in bars – it’s your fault. Do what I did: gain weight. Pack on some pounds and suddenly you’ll discover that all kinds of things are bumping into you: women, men, old men, passersby, expensive china plates displayed precariously in narrow-aisled boutiques. Plus, you’ll begin to generate your own gravitational field, which comes in handy when you’ve accidentally left the chip-and-dip way over on the coffee table.


Dear Scott:

I can’t help but notice while I’m standing in the checkout line at the grocery store or pharmacy, that many women’s magazines (Cosmo, to name one) feature articles along the lines of “We teach you how to give him mindblowing sex – tonight!” or “Read about the super secret awesome trick that will make him beg for more!”

Being a guy, I know how I…. uh…. function, we’ll say. Do these magazines know something I don’t? How can they publish a new secret month after month? How many secrets are there? – Alex

Alex –

I’m not sure I understand your question. You’re saying you don’t know how to perform the very latest sex tricks? You’re not up to date on all the state-of-the-art sex-move innovations? I find this unfathomable. I am without a single fathom.

Let me get this straight, Alex: You’ve never heard of The Whirling Dervish? The Spelunker? The Naughty Badger?

You’re unaware of the existence of the Up-’n-At’em, the Purple Onion and the Frank Mahovlich?

You’ve never treated your partner to the Freeloader, the Wash Me Gomez, Mickey’s Rourke, “News at 11,” the Slapchop, the 20 Minute Workout, Freebird, the Monkey’s Uncle, the Stretch Armstrong, Flappy McNurple or the Gimpy Welshman?

You’ve never known the pleasure of experiencing the Corkscrew, the Jay Leno, the Fat Albert, the Thigh Chafer, Midnight’s Howling, the Boss Hogg, Apollo 69, the Royal Scotsman, Bunny Snuggles, the Hitchhiker, Nebraska’s Revenge, the Wayward Albatross, the Reverse Eskimo, the Triple Espresso, the Filthy McMuffin, Hogan’s Hero, Nip & Tuck, Rook to Queen’s Bishop Four, the Bashful Spaniard and the Prorogator.

Alex, I’m worried about you. I’m worried about how far behind you’ve fallen behind the rest of us. I hesitate to ask but – are you still using your… penis?


Dear Scott:

If you were a POW and for the next 6 hours you knew you were either going to be waterboarded or placed in a room with John Baird when he is in angry mode, which would you hope for? – Bert P.

Bert –

Whoawhoawhoa. Whoa. Are you saying John Baird has other modes? I never even thought to look. Hang on a minute, let me access the control panel in his back and… wow, look at all those settings:

  1. Angry
  2. Angrier
  3. Irate-o-tronic


Dear Scott:

I’m no rocket scientist (although I play one on TV), but my head hurts reading Colby Cosh’s blog.  Some recent ones:

– “the Stochastic web”

– “literary necrophages”

”a simple, scalar Benthamite answer”

– “Harper”

I had trouble with all of these and more.  Did he swallow a Word-of-the-Day calendar as a child or his he channeling Conrad Black – CBP


Channeling Conrad Black? That’s ridiculous! How on earth could Colby Cosh be channeling Conrad Black? He is Conrad Black.

I can’t believe you don’t know this, CBP. I thought everyone knew. It’s the worst kept secret since Andrew Coyne died in a tragic pontification mishap and was replaced with two angry midgets in a trenchcoat.

Strip away Colby’s obviously fake facial hair. Wash out the hair dye and – poof – it’s Lord Black himself. And now it all starts to make sense: the big words, the thought-provoking essays, the obsessive references to Barbara Amiel’s moist, glistening lips.

And always remember, CBP: Big words aren’t meant to be understood, they’re meant to be enjoyed – like public art sculptures and Jay Leno’s anxiety.

I’d answer more questions but yard time is over here at the Coleman Federal Correctional Complex and I need to go put my Conrad Black mask back on.

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