Love in the age of Tulips

The Sire and Mare of G.L. returned home last night from a visit to our Nation’s Capital and reported a lovely time sniffing around at the Tulip festival. My mother’s friend Snooky was looking at a bank of flowers near the East Block of Parliament Hill, when she noticed a handwritten note blowing by. She grabbed it and the letterhead indicated it was from the P.M.O. Of course, having no interest in Canadian politics as an American, Snooky forwarded it on to G.L.

Shocked, I realized it was the most dastardly of notes from the Putrid Mess…a mash note.

My Dearest Belinda,

I can’t go on like this, watching you from afar across the floor of the House. You radiate a mediocrity that draws me like a moth to a flame, so Liberal, so beautiful. I sit at night imagining you handling Democratic Renewal and get a tingle the likes of which I have not had since Scott Brison erected his campaign sign.

I know you are sworn to another, in your heart and by several thousand constituents, but I can promise you riches of the soul like no other and trips on one of my beautiful luxury yachts. You need not sit in obscurity any more. Be by my side announcing untold riches for Quebec; by my side on trade junkets around the world; by my side siphoning money out of Ontari…Alberta to give to the have-nots.

Belinda, you know you want this…it is in your eyes and your heart when you look at that wannabe MacKay. MacKay doesn’t love, Harper doesn’t love, but I love. Love your callousness, and your daddy’s money. Sigh….

Hopelessly devoted to Quebec, I remain,

Paolo Martino

PS – Does your daddy have any horses running in the Preakness??!! I love horsies!!

This is day 325 of the Liberal siege...