HOUSE OF COMMONS FINANCE COMMITTEE
There were two ugly performances at the House of Commons finance committee hearing last Tuesday. The first was the testimony of the Kielburger brothers, who blamed pretty much everybody in the country for their woes except their Liberal cronies and themselves. Their evasiveness and parsing was truly stunning, to the point of being reminiscent of President Clinton’s “it depends on what the meaning of the word ‘is’ is.” They came across as a couple of well-rehearsed, smarmy con men who are still hiding a lot. The second was the incredible partisanship of the committee chair, PEI Liberal MP Wayne Easter. I’ve attended a couple of thousand meetings during my career, and I’ve never seen a more hideous execution of a committee chair’s role. He gave Liberal members all the latitude they wanted, muzzled opposition members, and allowed the Kielburgers free rein, including refusing to answer the questions they were asked, all of which was an astonishing abdication of his responsibilities.
On Thursday Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and his Chief of Staff, Katie Telford, spent three-and-a-half hours denying, evading, making hollow apologies, and shamelessly throwing the public service under the bus. It’s unlikely that they changed anybody’s mind about the inappropriateness of the preposterously cozy relationship between WE and the Liberals. However, committee chair Wayne Easter performed much better. Maybe he spent Wednesday reviewing the terms of reference of the committee and reading Robert’s Rules of Order.
A BASEBALL RARITY
When the Blue Jays took the field for their opening game at Tropicana Field in Tampa last week, their entire infield consisted of sons of former major leaguers. 1B Vlad Guerrero Jr; 2B Cavan Biggio (son of Craig); 3B Travis Shaw (son of Jeff); and SS Bo Bichette (son of Dante). Both Vlad Sr. and Jeff Shaw are former Expos.
2020 BASEBALL RULE CHANGES
After a week watching the resumption of baseball I’ve formed some opinions about the main 2020 rule changes. I like that the NL is using designated hitters. Watching pitchers flailing away at the plate is about as entertaining as watching a Margaret Trudeau speech, which is to say it’s ghastly. I love the rule that a relief pitcher has to either finish the inning or face at least three batters. I hope they keep these two changes beyond 2020. Starting extra innings with a runner on second base is, like the shootout in hockey, a gimmick. But admittedly, also like the shootout, I’m not turning off the TV because of it. The expanded rosters and the introduction of a taxi squad is fine for this year, but I don’t want to see this continued. I’m in favour of more teams making the playoffs, but only if the regular season is shortened.
REMEMBERING A DEAR FRIEND
Only my family and closest friends will recognize his name, but Ken Linn, one of my oldest and dearest friends, passed away peacefully in his sleep this week, well into his 95th year. Ken was a consummate gentleman who knew how to enjoy life. We were fellow chartered accountants, but more importantly, for many years we were also fellow Dale Carnegie Course instructors. In 1968, Ken, Mike Levine, Al Addy and I, all Carnegie instructors, began a monthly luncheon group that eventually became known as the Romeos, an acronym for “retired old men eating out.” Although two later additions, Steve Freedhoff and Tom Roberts, remain, I’m the only surviving original Romeo. My son Alan suggested we change the meaning to remaining old men eating out. Ken would have loved that. Because of the COVID-19 rules, attendance at his funeral was limited, but it kept running through my mind that the chapel would otherwise have been overflowing.
AND EDDIE SHACK
I knew Eddie Shack fairly well, and our wives were in the same book club for years. I can attest to the fact that although he may have lacked an extended formal education, he certainly wasn’t lacking in intelligence, street smarts, or business acumen.
My favourite personal Shack experience happened one summer day when he, Norm Ullman, Murray Oliver, and I were playing golf at one of the west-end Toronto courses; I’ve forgotten which one. We had all teed off and were walking to our balls when one of the foursome behind us drove a ball into our midst. I drove it back at them. The foursome advanced on us, fists at the ready. When they got close enough to recognize Shack et al, they turned back and we didn't see them again that day. Shack looked at me and said, “Gutsy move, Lyman. I’d have taken care of the jerks, but whose name do you think would have been in the papers tomorrow?”