Toronto Mayor Rob Ford at the Nuit Blanche Festival

Rob Ford, Toronto’s embattled Mayor, is a fiscal conservative with small eyes and big hands. He likes to drive immense cars, call-in to talk radio shows about football and policy, and go to the cottage and float in an inner tube. In spite of the fact that he’s Mayor of Canada’s largest city, he has a reputation for actually disliking urban culture and wanting to make the city more like a suburb. As such, he’s been loath to join in with groups considered either elitist or marginalized, choosing instead the road of the “common man” he’s always romanticized.

As many of you know, Rob Ford and I went to Carleton University in Ottawa at the same time and were last call drinking buddies. Although we’ve never had a sober conversation, we developed a strange but resilient friendship, one that sees us communicate even to this day. Whenever one of us is drinking alone, we often go on-line to chat with one another, a sort of nostalgic slur back to the good old days.

At about 3:00 am on Saturday, as Toronto’s Nuit Blanche arts festival was winding down, I got this message from Rob:

The Mayor: Her Mur, you there? You go to the French thing last night?

Me: Rob! You mean Nuit Blanche?

The Mayor: Yeah, the farts festival.

Me: What were you doing there? You’re not a fart fan!

The Mayor: Who says?? BTFSPLK!!!! LOLOLO!! Hey, uever hit a raccoon with a rock?

Me: Tried to, but always missed.

The Mayor: Always threw like a girl, Murray! Honest to god, thought ur a fag until we went to that peeler together!

Me: Juicy Lucy’s.

The Mayor: Loved that place. Wanted Sylvie so baaaddd!!!

Me: What about the raccoon?

The Mayor: Pegged it right in the head, thing fell off the fire escape. I was a goddamn hero, but the press never runs those stories.

Me: Slobber, you should have been the quarterback.

The Mayor: Always the QB inside, Mur, u know that.

Me: So how was your night of arts?

The Mayor: Fuckin’ AWESOME!!!

Me: What’d ya see?

The Mayor: My brother and I dressed up as Droogs from a Clockwork Orange!! Got hammered!

Me: You gotta always hide from the press, eh?

The Mayor: Always wanted to be a Droog. Relate to the Droog. DROOOOOOGGG!!

Me: DROOOOOGG!!

The Mayor: We tipped over some shitter that some dick was in.

Me: He crossed the wrong fucking Droogs!

The Mayor: Ain’t that the truth! Doug and I were yelling at some chick to show us her tits and then this fancy Charlie got all feminazi on us so we taught him a lesson.

Me: You ‘da Mayor!!

The Mayor: Fuckin’ right, little buddy. And let me tell you, if that pirate girl Justin Trudeau runs for Prime Minisiter, I’m quitting this job and running against him. Show him what a real man smells like! Ford’s Fist, Fucker, Ford’s Fist. Outta Rye, catch ya later little buddy!