Housebroken Conservatism

Dispatch #17: Bring it Home, Give it a Name, Pretend You Like It

Less than a week to go, and Poilievre’s Conservatives finally handed in their homework. Too bad half the class voted during Easter break.

But you can’t blame them for stalling. If they’d released it earlier, Carney would've pulled a CTRL+C, CTRL+V — like he did with his PhD, his campaign, and probably his wedding vows.

So Carney had to dust off Trudeau’s backup binder and hope nobody noticed the bite marks. New face, same script, same cabinet careerists playing musical chairs on a burning B.C. Ferry.

If you like where this flaming canoe’s been paddling the past ten years, sure — vote Liberal. Maybe they’ll crash it into a different iceberg next time.

Usually, large turnout means the peasants brought pitchforks. But in the darkest timeline? We’re all just swinging baguettes at each other in an April thunderstorm poised to turn into freezing rain and spite.

My brain says “Carney squeaks out a minority.” But my gut? It’s growling “Poilievre majority” like I just ate, in one sitting, a family-sized bag of ketchup chips.

Maybe the polls are off by a mile. Maybe the overworked under-55 crowd finally outvotes the retirees who think Poilievre is too mean and Carney is more than just Justin with testicles.

Either way, it’s all cosmetic surgery. Pierre wants us tweezing our eyebrows while the Liberals keep pumping lip filler until the country starts to resemble Andrea Ivanova.

Anyway, the Conservatives finally released their platform. Let’s crack this binder open and see what’s inside — stale coffee breath, suppressed rage, and a couple pages stuck together with stress sweat.

Hulk Smash!

Poilievre’s plan for the public service? Don’t fire the bureaucrats — just ghost them as they retire and pretend it’s a budget strategy.

They call it “streamlining.” I call it Exhibit A in the case against letting government employees vote themselves pay raises. Democracy dies when Parliament starts playing sugar daddy to everyone on the payroll.

Still, credit where it’s due — Pierre wants to take a weed-whacker to the consultant class, rolling spending back to 2015 levels. You know, back when we still pretended government reports meant something.

Translation: stop giving $10 billion a year to WEF technocrats so they can tell us we own too much land, eat too much beef, and should start learning Mandarin.

Poilievre wants to make consultants rethink that MBA in “strategic synergy alignment” — and every $90 veal tartare they billed to taxpayers from the Château Laurier minibar.

Odds, Ends, and Vibes

In the first 100 days, the Conservatives plan to identify 15% of federal land and buildings to sell off for housing.

Because nothing says “nation-building” like pawning off Parliament’s leftovers. “This heritage building was built in 1890, comes with four ghosts, two ethics violations, and a demonic fax machine from the Chretien era.”

As part of the tough-on-crime cosplay, Poilievre says no parole for murderers who won’t say where the body’s buried.

Call it: CSI: Parliament Hill.

You want parole? Grab a shovel, Dexter.

The plan also promises addiction treatment — but only for the illegal kind. Nothing for sugar, booze, cannabis, caffeine, or the country's raging dependency on cheap credit and overpriced milk.

Honestly, the biggest addiction problem is credit. And right now, the only “treatment” is a $10 plot of land in Cochrane and a shovel for your dreams.

I was hoping for some actual fiscal conservatism, but nope — Poilievre’s budget is just a choose-your-own-adventure novel where every ending is a deficit.

The Liberals dropped the ball and shattered Carney’s “centrist” illusion, but Pierre caught it and spiked it into a pile of exploding spreadsheets.

The Conservative platform predicts $100 billion in red ink over four years.

Instead of Trudeau’s “the budget will balance itself,” we get Poilievre’s economic wizardry: “Don’t worry, the tariffs will save us.”

Like Ricky promising us free satellite television from “NAYSA” —you know, the rocket people? Perhaps you’ve heard of them?

Guns and Refunds

The Conservatives are pledging $17 billion more for defence by 2029 — Arctic bases, surveillance drones, fighter jets, the whole Cold War cosplay starter pack.

They say we’ll finally meet our NATO obligations, instead of relying on American goodwill, which is about as reliable as a Musk rocket with a “Free Palestine” bumper sticker.

But is it fast enough? 2029 is four years away — plenty of time for Trump and Putin to cut a deal over the Arctic while we’re still pouring cold concrete and running out of gauze in Nunavut.

But hey — tax cuts!

Because what’s a Conservative party without them? That’d be like a vegan steakhouse or a celibate orgy: technically possible, but spiritually disgusting.

So Poilievre’s throwing us a bone: cutting the lowest tax bracket from 15% to 12.75%. Not exactly a revolution — more like knocking a nickel off your execution fee.

There was a rumour he’d axe income tax entirely for low earners.

And once that’s out there, anything over 0% feels like betrayal — like showing up to your own surprise party and finding out it’s an intervention.

Instead, we get another soggy band-aid slapped on the gangrenous leg stump that is the Canadian tax code.

Pierre’s solution? Write off your patriotism on line 13 and hope the CRA doesn’t audit your soul.

Nail Guns, Chainsaws, and CBC After Dark

Housing — the one issue where the Conservatives might actually win on purpose.

Their plan? Build 2.3 million homes and scrap the GST on anything under $1.3 million—which in Toronto gets you a broom closet with a shared hallucination of a backyard.

So basically: build houses and cut taxes. It’s like Pierre’s trying to speedrun SimCity with the Libertarian DLC.

Why stop at housing? Just kill the GST altogether.

We made it through the Cold War on nothing but maple syrup, hockey, and emotional repression — and we liked it that way.

Besides, slashing taxes makes us more competitive with the Americans —

a) which might cut our dependency on their drama, and

b) might convince investors we’re not a vassal state with hockey.

Trump’s dropping the ball. Someone’s gotta pick it up before China spike-serves it into the Pacific.

And then there’s the environment. The platform says they’ll repeal the 2019 Impact Assessment Act — and basically any regulation with a bird on the cover.

Pipelines? Absolutely.

Their climate plan seems to be: if a tree falls in the forest and it's in the way of quarterly profits, call the chainsaw union and tell them it’s overtime.

They also want to drop university requirements for most federal gigs. Translation: fire the arts grads, hire the guys who fixed your cousin’s deck for half a gram and a case of Sleeman.

And finally — axe the English CBC, keep the French.

The CBC might lose funding, but hey, there’s always OnlyFans.

At least there, they can still charge for softcore propaganda and the occasional sweaty close-up of a Toronto food critic.

What Are We Even Voting For?

Mark Carney says we’re in a crisis — and only he can stop the Trump Threat™.

Which is funny, because Trump rose to power yelling “drain the swamp,” and now Carney’s out here doing a centrist rebrand of the same pitch — just with better grammar and a hidden carbon tax.

Polls say the mushy middle finger is drifting Carney’s way.

To win, Poilievre has to lure them back — without spooking them with eye contact or ideology.

It’s like trying to pick up your ex at her boyfriend’s housewarming. Yeah, you’ve got history (remember 2011?), but she’s locked into this guy who keeps gaslighting her while torching the kitchen.

And now she’s sleeping with his twin, calling it “fresh leadership.” Elbows up?

Poilievre’s been playing uphill poker with 2-7 offsuit and a vintage NAFTA pamphlet.

“I call your tariffs… with FREEDOM!”

Still, credit where it’s due — Poilievre has gone from rage-baiting farmer to calm, calculated policy bot.

Turns out, if you give him hair gel and remove his glasses, he stops yelling at imaginary gatekeepers.

Picture Mark Carney as the theatre kid who wandered backstage at the G7 and got stuck in the curtain rigging.

Poilievre’s the janitor who finds him — cold, calm, and weirdly obsessed with mop efficiency, like a guy who reads vacuum specs for foreplay.

Poilievre’s not running on a platform — he’s running on grocery receipts, resentment, and a double-double-fuelled crusade to crush real estate prices with a Made-in-Canada mortar and pestle.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth May might lose her B.C. seat… to the Conservatives.

Good. I hope it happens.

Anyone who’s read these dispatches knows I lean Green — but not this chaotic, anti-market, patchouli-scented version. That party needs a full transfusion of eco-capitalism and maybe a new deodorant stick.

They’ve already been booted from the debates. Their internal politics are a mess.

And I still can’t figure out their anti-semitism—especially given how green the Israeli economy is.

If they lose both seats and gain nothing new, the body’s cold. It’s takeover time. Who’s with me?

In the meantime, it’s face down, elbows up — six days till this country gets its teeth cleaned with a belt sander.