The cabinet maker pulls the strings

People keep asking me why I don't discuss my new cabinet since I'm so fond of talking about my new government of Canada. I haven't bothered to respond because it's such an idiotic question but I guess back-to-school is a good time to teach the chattering classes a lesson in Harper 101.

First of all, in Canada only the cabinet maker matters - cabinet ministers are just political window-dressing. The PMO takes all the decisions and the ministers are just there to insulate the PM from unpopular policies or provide a photo op for announcements that aren't important enough for the PM to take the credit.

Second, cabinet ministers are extra-irrelevant in a minority government because you need to avoid parliament at all costs. There is basically no legislation for ministers to introduce and the whole focus of the government is on the regulation changes, military spending and deals like the SPP that you can pursue until you get a majority.

Finally, ministers in my New government of Canada are just puppets mouthing the words I write for them. I don't trust any of them to think or speak for themselves - especially not world-class imbeciles like Peter Pan. That douchebag has never met a flip he couldn't flop. Defense is not a vote of confidence, it's a chance for him to prove what a colossal moron he is - insurance in case the party gets the crazy idea of holding a leadership review.

Because every once in a while one of the thick-skulled cabinet marionettes gets the bright idea they can operate without any strings. They may even convince some brainless colleagues and party officials that the puppet master is losing his touch and the lunatics should be running the asylum. The inevitable result is a disaster of pinocchioesque proportions. That's why I keep my cast dancing on strings tight enough to choke them into submission but not quite enough to strangle them.

A cabinet shuffle is like a minor change of stage scenery to keep my puppet show looking fresh. A couple of pieces of french toast flipped into the Quebec byelections, a tip of the hat to the oil patch, a puff of wind to blow away the smell from the reservations. Nothing more.