Hell hath no fury like a Harpie scorned

It's the worst kept secret in Ottawa that General Hellier envies me and desperately wants my job as Conservative Party Honcho and PM. Everyone in this great country is entitled to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness but, Big Cheese of Defense Staff or not, treason is not an acceptable path to achieve your dreams.

Here am I, the PM who without fanfare has done more to build the prestige, power, and privilege of the Canadian Forces from the halls of Ottawa to the stores of mainstreet Canada. But instead of supporting me and thanking me for my valiant efforts, Canada's chief soldier has done everything in his power to undermine and usurp me.

But his latest outrage has crossed the line big time! How dare this Queen's Hussar in a tight-assed uniform undercut the credibility and imperil the viability of Sandra, my personal spokesmouth and right-hand man eater. His limp-wristed posturing and asinine antics threaten to scuttle my government's entire Afghan PR policy.

Hellier has always had a hate hard on for Sandra, maybe he just doesn't like women who can boss him around. But now this infantile infantry imbecile thinks he can outwit me, the strategic supreme commander of both the Conservative Party and Canada? What unbridled arrogance and fellatial folly for a man who doesn't know his sodomy from his gomorah.

How could this cereal-box star crossed dress-up general have allowed the military briefing of our sworn enemy, Liberal Leader Quasimodo, on the top secret change in Afghan detainee policy? I know that he purposely laid this backdoor landmine as some kind of perverted insurance policy. He realized that it was bound to blow up in the my face and leave Sandra twisting in the news breaking wind coming from the collective Canadian media sphincter.

The next thing you know, humped-up homey Hellier will invite some pansy media whore for a private briefing about my Government's new and improved Afghan Take no Prisoners Policy. We make sure our Afghan Army "partners" are always on hand to "detain" the raghead terrorists and then they drag them to the same local jails we used to frequent but are now barred from.

This torturific strategy is a water-boarding win-win: the evil scumbags get the vital intelligence we need excruciatingly extracted from them along with their fingernails and we get to keep our hands and noses squeaky clean. A stroke of brilliance but now Hellier is chafing and giving us the shaft because it was my idea and Sandra's, not his. General Hasbeen wants to stick with the old fashioned policy of handing the enemy non-combatants over to the US for a little Guantanamo therapy.

I always suspected that Hellier was playing both sides of the street -- pretending to want only me while snuggling up to Liberal deputy macho-man Iguana-face in case of electoral inversion. But now he has blown his cover and exposed himself for naught. I will not tolerate his type of johnny-come-lately loose lips that not only sink ships but give the enemy a ball licking to keep their career on ticking.

And if he thinks he can go all Tony Soprano on me and mine, fuggedaboudit. I've got enough dirty lingerie on this hairy ass to have him busted down to buck naked private -- enjoy the cold showers and forced hard marches at boot camp, bigus dickus.

God bless the New Whup-ass Government of Canada.

Who gives the orders around here anyway?

I told you that Hellier and his brown-nosed Tory backbench cheerleaders were trying to grass my ass. But for him to virtually call me a liar by omission takes the fucking fudge cake, pardon my French. Look I've cut him some slack on his camo-photo-ops since he's a serving militico but that fast-talking Newfie is not going to have my job while I can still breathe.

First Hellier makes some wild claim that the Afghan Army won't be ready to take on security for a least a decade which, although it may be technically true, directly conflicts with the spirit my stated date of 2011.

Then he has the utter gall not to correct his mistake or retract his date but to waffle on some "we're all on the same page" crap -- as if I knew all along wink-wink that the 2011 date was just a convenient fiction.

Hello? I am the freaking Canadian Commander-in-Chief or what? (Or at least I will be when I change the Constitution or approve the merger with the US.) Some trumped-up little tin-star general doesn't go around contradicting me.

Sure Hellier can probably back up his date with some kind of military-speak acronym-filled mumbo-jumbo but my date was not only government policy but it has a much more important and sophisticated analysis behind it -- in a word, electability. That has a much more far-reaching impact on government policy that whether the Afghan Army can fight their way out of a wet paper opium bag.

I think General Assmunch must have landed on his head too many times playing with the paratroopers. And here's a word of free advice Brigadier Bonehead: lay-off the touchy-feely Rick Mercer appearances and the constant war-is-hell photo-ops -- it looks like you are trying too hard to be PM. Disinterested and slack-jawed wins the day, just look at how well it worked for Cretin.

Hellier is an egomaniac loose cannon who should be court-martialed for insubordination and is the second to last person on earth who I would want to succeed me as leader. Unfortunately, Peter Pan is the very last person on earth so I can't dump Hellier.

Peter Pan is like a walking advertisement for impotence - they should put his picture in all those viagra emails. I told him that his one and only file is Afghanistan and he promised me he could handle it like a man. I told him I would take care of the true north star strong and free arctic sovereignty beat, so that he could put all his thrust into Kandahar.

How does he repay my trust? The good ship Peter Pan finally limps in to Kandahar this week --traveling at wimp factor nine -- only three months too late. Not only has Kid Coderre beat him there (and shaved his Kandahar-Cup beard) but so have Max and Oda, Casey and Finnigin from Mr. Dressup, Tickle-Me-Elmo and Spotty Sam -- a acne-pocked 14-year-old charter member of bed-wetters anonymous.

Peter Pan is the only red-blooded caucasian on the planet that could actually be out-manned by the raghead Afghan army. He and Hillier are a perfectly matched couple. They should go out together for Halloween as Torvill and Dean or, better yet, Bluto and Olive Oyl -- they cancel each other out and keep El Presidente Popeye in the green.

By sinking them both in the Afghanistan quagmire I can keep the leadership rivals, real and imaginary, stuck in the mud.

God bless the New Command-In-Chief of Canada