Joe Biden, way ahead in the polls and the candidate that seems to have a clear path to victory over Trump in 2020, was once again attacked by his fellow Democrats. What must this man have be thinking? He has been in politics for what? Fifty years? He has held every policy position available, and for exceedingly complicated reasons none of us can understand, but his past is savaged by the other candidates. When a question comes to him he looks like he wants to pass. Exasperated, frustrated, mystified, each question, each accusation, a cold soup the old man keeps trying to send back.
Andrew Yang has been my favourite from the get-go. Smart and direct, with a manner as accessible as Obama, he drops sense bombs on the assembled gathering as if from a UFO. He actually tried to break through the 4th wall, calling attention to the surreal artificiality of the entire event, of the implicit and explicit deception going off like fireworks all over the place, yet the audience seemed cautious, like they were not quite willing to leave their cages and run on the grass.
Marriane Willamson is the person I want over for dinner.
Smart, charming and totally refreshing, she is the aunt we all need, possessed with a preternatural ability to raises the spirit of anybody who hears her speak. Hers is a kind of feminism that you don’t see in politics very much. Typically, it seems women were always coached to be more like men when entering the political sphere, more aggressive or something, but Williamson is her own person. She sinks even deeper into the truth of herself and is a joy to watch. She will heal you with her magic. She will call to you in your sleep. She should obey no rules and smoke on stage. I want her to read my tarot cards.
I knew virtually nothing about Tulsi Gabbard, and when I first saw her on stage I thought she was Wonder Woman. She is the type of beauty I hadn’t historically seen on a political stage, and was in danger of thinking she was just some game show glitter, but she was a lucid destroyer, taking Kamal Harris apart, exactly as Harris had hoped to take Biden apart. It was exciting to watch—Harris, like a short-circuiting robot running and rerunning the only malfunctioning program it had, smoke steaming out of her ears, limbs flailing. And Sweet Jesus, when Gabbard began to speak of what the tiny, vulnerable Hawaiian islands have to face with climate change, I saw them as if from space, and my heart broke.
In it, I am wearing a costume that is clearly racist and offensive.
This picture was taken from a Christmas Assembly at Lisgar Collegiate in Ottawa, Ontario, and I was performing a rap as an “urban Santa.” Although I was not in black face as some have asserted, my family and I had just returned from a vacation in Hawaii and I had a very uncharacteristic tan. I am deeply apologetic for that triggering tan, the privilege that implies, and for my blatant cultural appropriation.
It is also true that I wrote, “I HAVE ALWAYS HAD A CRAZY CRUSH ON YOU!! in Marie-Therese Vitzhum’s yearbook in 1983. I am deeply embarrassed by my insensitivity to my brothers and sisters who struggle with mental illness. After finishing in the bottom third of the standings in a fantasy hockey league two years ago, I, too, fell into a depression, so I need you to know you have an ally in Michael Murray, not an enemy.
I love you.
I hear you.
And I am listening.
These past behaviours of mine are not in keeping with who I am today or the values I have fought for throughout my career as Commissioner of the Dirty Pigeon Fantasy Hockey League. I want to offer my sincerest apology, and to state my absolute commitment to living up to the expectations the Dirty Pigeon Fantasy Hockey Community set for me when you elected me Commissioner. I understand why your faith in me has been shaken, and I recognize that it will take time and serious effort to heal the damage this conduct has caused.
I am ready to do that important work.
Humbled and grateful for this teachable moment.
Your fantasy hockey Commissioner,
Michael Murray
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