You could count me amongst the latter.
The first three words of the eulogy were, “Friends, Romans, Countryman,” and the emotional performance was so rehearsed and needy, so over-wrought with technique, that it completely turned me off. His slight lisp made him enunciate each word with greater force, and the stresses felt unnatural, built for manipulation rather than a natural expression of feeling and sentiment.
It was as if as a child of celebrity, he craved the burning light of fame, and that there was no circumstance, even that of his father’s funeral, in which he would not step into the light of another life. He just seemed to enjoy this day in the spotlight more than was appropriate, you know?
So I was a hater, dismissing him as a “high school drama teacher,” and lumping him in with Ben Mulroney, host of a breezy celebrity news show, whom I saw as another shallow, attention-seeking child of a Prime Minister.
It was easy enough to resent Trudeau his ready-made celebrity. He was good looking, naturally charismatic, had the touch of aristocracy, and people seemed as desperate to make a star of him as he seemed as desperate to become one.
Of course, we are admonished to be kind, for everybody we meet is fighting a hard battle. That Trudeau grew up wealthy and famous is true, but he also grew up in the toxic, corrosive glare of fame. His mother, suffering from mental health issues, was often absent, luridly splashed across papers and viciously mocked,
while his father was doing the nation’s business. It must have been lonely and strange for young Justin, and then he lost his beloved brother, one of the few people on the planet who might understand. Surviving this upbringing intact is actually entirely heroic, a testimony to character rather than a “free ride”.
Throughout the campaign, throughout Trudeau’s life, he was made light of. People challenged his intellect, although it was never exactly clear why, they condescended to him by calling him by his first name and sneered at his hair, as if trying to feminize him, as if they were schoolyard bullies calling him “a girl.” As if that was an insult.
Justin Trudeau took it. He did not get bitter, he did not change or become angry, he remained the same optimistic, essentially happy and earnest person that he had always seemed to be, and he continued.
A few weeks ago during the Munk debate on foreign affairs, something the girlish and daft Trudeau was presumed to know nothing about, somebody was riding Trudeau for one of his father’s policies, again, imperiously, as if lecturing a child. And as this was taking place, Trudeau let his back stiffen just a bit and interrupted him. As if taking a step forward somehow, he asserted that he was proud to be his father’s son, and that he hoped to continue to build on the Canada that his father helped create. He was not furious or panicky. He was simply sure of himself.
And in this moment something changed. All the flimsy, lazy insults were unmasked, all the sniping and juvenile attack ads fell away.
And there, without embellishment, stood a man, a man of some substance who could not be so mocked. Trudeau, once again, for the millionth time, perhaps, was proving he was above and beyond this petty mewling. He was in a different grade than the men attacking him. He was not aligning himself with the Ford Brothers to get votes.
Trudeau was more than we had expected, not less. He has proven himself in ways we can’t even begin to understand, and we should trust in him and his decency, pushing the baser, cynical fabrications aside.
Don’t be scared to vote for Justin Trudeau. He deserves our respect and support, so, so much more than those he is running against. I am proud of him, and I cannot say that about any of the other leaders.
]]>Back in the early 90’s, while both of us were very stoned at a frat party in Montreal, we played a game of ping-pong. Let me tell you, playing ping-pong while high is just about the funniest thing you can do in the entire universe. I don’t care what dimension you’re talking about. It is a blast. This is the conversation I had with the young man who would later become the Liberal leader of Canada:
Me: Does your father sleep with a lot of models?
Justin: He dated Christy Turlington for a couple of months.
Me: She’s in that George Michael video Freedom! Sexiest video ever!! Did you ever see her changing or anything?
Justin: No.
Me: Rip-off. Sometimes you just gotta ask yourself what the point is of having a dad who’s the Prime Minister.
Justin: He’s not the Prime Minister! It’s been like a century since he was in office!
Me: I think he is.
Justin: No way!!!
Me: You’re not very informed, you’re very weak on policy.
Justin: Are you high? I am really high.
Me: Totally, and I can’t believe Claudia Schiffer is engaged to David Copperfield. He’s creepy. It’s like his eyes never move.
Justin: Do you remember how to serve in this game?
Me: I don’t think you do serve.
Justin: What do you do then?
Me: I need to think for a second.
Justin: Oh, I know, you just bounce it over the net! (throws ball into net)
Me: You have to do it again.
Justin: No!! It’s your serve now!
Me: Swerve? What does that mean?
Justin: Serve!!!
Me: Stop switching between French and English, you’re fucking me up!!
Justin: Just throw the ball!
Me: (throws the ball)
Justin: (swats at ball, like a cat, with his open palm)
Me: You’re supposed to use the paddle!
Justin: Are you sure? That doesn’t feel right.
Me: This is the longest ping-pong game in the history of ping-pong.
Justin: I know, it’s like we’ve been playing for days.
Me: It’s an endurance sport. Who invented it, was it the Egyptians?
Justin: I think they made the balls out of scarab shells and papyrus paper.
Me: The Egyptians were so fucking cool.
Justin: What’s the score.
Me: It’s 9 to 3 for me.
Justin: Right.
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