Did you see this? I had no idea we were allowed to “rip” our fellow Maclean’s columnists.
Did you see this? I had no idea we were allowed to “rip” our fellow Maclean’s columnists.
[Sound of extensive throat-clearing…]
Coyne. A 1-series? Really? Was the dealership all out of real BMWs?
Amiel. I’ve lived on this earth for 41 years and I’ve never heard of either of the dog breeds you’re aiming to acquire. So you’re going to get a rescue kuvasz next and then perhaps a Caucasian ovtcharka? What are you going to name the ovtcharka: Consonant?
Wells. Nice opening to your column about fascism, squealer. Way to ruin the Maclean’s “We’re-All-Going-to-Die…Again!” Cover Strategy by totally giving it away. You wrote: “We like scaring you here at Maclean’s. That’s why we like these rip-roaring cover stories: we hope that you’ll pick us up and read the calmer stuff inside too.” I shall now forever think of our editors as hard-working Chinese laundromat owners and you as the blabby wife who just can’t help herself from saying: “Ken Whyte – some hotshot! Here’s his ancient Chinese secret!”*
Potter. Nice column about the playoff beard. Nice statement you make where you basically say that although all men may not be able to shoot or skate or throw a bodycheck as well as their hockey heroes, they can at least look like them every spring by growing a beard. I demand a correction because THIS IS FALSE! I cannot grow a beard, nor a moustache. I can’t even grow that little hair mammal that Howie Mandel has under his bottom lip. How exactly am I supposed to get a taste of this male solidarity thing you rave about? (Please say “cut-off jean shorts,” please say “cut-off jean shorts”…)
Steyn. Maybe I need to read your column again but, umm, are you actually rooting for an electromagnetic pulse to wipe out mechanized civilization as we know it and return us all to the primitive splendour of 1875 America? Because so far as I understand it, such a scenario would render my electric fork inoperable. Twirl my own spaghetti? That dog won’t hunt, Monseigneur.
* Alleged joke impenetrable to anyone under the age of 38.