MBTY Or Why Politicians Are The Way They Are

urinals

Early in grade school, maybe around Grade 3 or so, boys discover something: someone in their class has a larger penis than they do. This isn’t a huge deal, at the time, but it sinks into the male psyche and troubles the individual.

Sometimes for the rest of his life.

Since there is nothing – physically – that you can do about this discovery, boys come up with different ways to assert the same reality … “Mine’s Bigger Than Yours” or MBTY.

“I can run faster than you.”

Translation: Mine’s Bigger Than Yours.

“I can climb higher than you.”

Translation: Mine’s Bigger Than Yours.

“I can multiply and divide complex numbers in my head.”

Translation: Mine’s Bigger Than Yours.

Of course, in our teens and early twenties, we mature. We no longer spend most of our time running, climbing, or doing complex mathematics. We have evolved. Instead, we buy fast cars (MBTY), have drinking contests to see who pukes first (MBTY), and talk about how much we make per hour (MBTY).

As we continue to evolve, we no longer talk about going fast, puking, or what we make per hour. Instead, we talk about how big our house is, how much we paid for our fine wine, and what we make per year.

Translation: Mine’s Bigger Than Yours.

Sadly, since most people who run the world are men, this continues to be played out on the national – and even international – stage.

PM Harper just dissolved parliament*. In the first place, this is good – less BS to filter out of your daily news watching. In the second place (and if you are in second place, it means someone else’s was bigger), it means that we will be bombarded with a whole new bunch of BS. All of which is grounded in MBTY syndrome.

Or, to use the technical phrase, Grade Three Potty Syndrome, or GTPS.

You laugh. Ron, you say, there is no way that respected world leaders are really trying to compare their penis sizes with leaders from other parts of the world.

That would be crazy.

Exhibit A. George W Bush.

Poor George. His daddy had already proven to the world that his was bigger (remember Gulf War 1: The Televised One). Now poor George II had to prove the same.

“George,” some advisor said, “Why not declare a War on Terror?”

“Is that even a thing?” asked George W.

“As far as you know,” said the advisor.

Let the measuring begin.

Exhibit B. Adolf Hitler.

Adolf was jolted from his sleep by a terrible thought. “Oh, no! I just remembered. In Grade 3, I happened to see Hans Zimmer’s penis in the north hall bathroom. It was bigger than mine.”

He jumped out of bed and invaded Poland.

Exhibit C. Not that we need it. Julius Caesar.

“Brutus,” Julius said. “They’ve said if I bring the army back over the Rubicon, I’m a traitor to the cause.”

“Who said so?” asked Brutus.

“Gaius Flavius.”

“Weren’t you in his Grade 3 class?”

Terrible thoughts of inadequacy leap into Julius’s mind. Stupid Gaius!

“Let’s go home, boys.”

Even here in good old, mild-mannered, Clark-Kent-style Canada, we are not immune to GTPS. Take our parliament, for example.

I understand that an election has been called. For the next 37 and one half months, we will be bombarded with rhetoric of all types. None of it remotely helpful or uplifting. In fact, the best we can hope for is that it will be entertaining.

I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that the election brings out the absolute worst in people. After all, they’ve been practicing for the last 4 years.

Conservative: Mr Speaker. Mr Speaker. Mr Speaker. (Don’t you just hear Oh, Oh, Oh Mr Kotter!” Yes, Horeshack?”) The honourable member (interesting, too, that they use the word member to refer to each other. But I digress.) is a jackass.”

Liberal (leaping to his feet): Mr Kotter. I mean Mr Speaker. I’m afraid that, due to a lack of intelligence, and – likely – penis size, the honourable member of the majority is, in fact, the jackass.

NDP (not wanting to be left out): Mr Speaker. I think I can respectfully say that the members are both jackasses. And, since I really, really want to be part of this elite group, I will just say that it takes one to know one.”

Mine’s Bigger Than Yours.

So, they’ve got 4 years of ammunition saved up. And they are not afraid to use it. Even if it isn’t true. Or is fear mongering. Or panders to certain groups. Or attacks the most defenseless in our society. Or … well, you get the picture.

What I’d like to see is this: throw Harper, Trudeau, and Mulcair into the cage and have a good, old-fashioned, no-holds-barred, Stampede-Wrestling-style cage match. Whoever survives is able to say that his is the biggest and, therefore, is best suited to rule Canada for the next four years.

Hey, makes as much sense as what happens now.

You know that Trudeau wouldn’t stand a chance. Sure, he’s the youngest, fittest, and possibly the strongest, but he wouldn’t last more than a few seconds.

Trudeau: “Hey Harper. I sure like how you handle yourself. Oh, and Mulcair, you sure look good in those tights.”

Then Harper would kick him between the legs and Mulcair would rabbit punch him, and he’d be out.

Harper and Mulcair would be a great fight. I think Mulcair is physically stronger, so you would think that he would be the winner. Don’t count Harper out, though. Just when you think Mulcair is winning, JR Foley – I mean Peter MacKay – would distract the referee. Then, from out of nowhere, the recently disgraced Mike Duffy would pick the lock, climb to the top rope, and finish Mulcair with a flying elbow smash.

When the referee turns back, all he’d see was Harper covering Mulcair for the count and a couple of stray expense forms on the canvas.

That, my friends, would be a great election.

Personally, I’m pulling for May of the Green Party. I took a quick read of the Green platform, but really … who cares? Why ruin your election entertainment with pesky facts? The candidates won’t, I assure you.

Nope, I just think it would be a nice change of pace to have a woman in charge. Yes, technically we had a female PM, but … Anyway, imagine the refreshing ways of thinking that could ensue.

Why? Presumably, as a woman, she would not be afflicted with the crippling GTPS. Better know as Mine’s Bigger Than Yours. Because she, without being too graphic, doesn’t have one, and so is free from comparison.

Imagine what she could do!

“PM. We’d like to have a made-in-Canada War on Terror.”

“Why?”

“Well, there are a lot of BS reasons, but mostly it’s to show the world that Canada’s is just as big – or bigger – than any other country’s. Plus we’d be able to buy some really cool, really shiny jets.”

“Are these jets on sale or something?

“No. Things are never on sale for governments.”

“Sounds stupid. Denied. What else you got?”

“Umm … Some of our wealthy friends think that they should be taxed less than what low income earners are taxed.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Well, it’s just that we like those rich guys to think we are righteous dudes. Besides, they all have big ones, and we are envious and want them to send us money. So we can get girls.”

“That’s just as stupid as the last one. How does it make sense that the people most able to afford the taxes wouldn’t be taxed as much as those least able to? Denied!”

And I imagine she has a big rubber stamp that says DENIED, and she slams it down on each idea. That would be sweet. That, my friends, would be good television.

Advisor nervously dabs at his forehead with a handkerchief. Which normally he wouldn’t be caught dead with, but he saw a pro athalete with one and figured the ladies liked them.

“Um … Ah … We’d like to create a completely new, kick-ass international force that would be just like the RCMP, CSIS, the border people, Coast Guard, and Foreign Affairs all combined. And they’d have cool, James Bond-like gadgets and have an ordinary name but that looks cool as initials and …”

May, cutting him off. “We already have those organizations in place. Get them to cooperate with each other and let’s move on.”

Advisor is aghast. “But, they don’t cooperate.”

“Well, then, put some women in charge.”

“But … that force would be really cool.”

“And what would it cost?”

“Just a couple of hundred million a year, or so. Plus it would make Canada look truly bad ass.”

“Meanwhile, there are kids starving on our very own streets. In Canada! Denied. Oh, and get out.”

DENIED! On the grounds that penis size is irrelevant.

Well, it’s too much to hope for. No doubt, we’ll have good old Harper for another four years. Not that he’s any better, or worse, than any other. It’s just that he’s so … well … boring.

Oh for the days of Jean Chretien. “Well, if you come at me in a crowd, I ‘ave to take you out.” Or, and this was my all time favourite: “A proof is a proof is a proof. Once it has been proven, it is a proof.”

Who can argue with that?

True, I couldn’t understand a word he said, but there was a guy who could give a fiddler’s fiduciary about what anyone thought of him. Politically correct? I think not.

Or even, gulp, Pierre Trudeau. Trudeau was crap for the country, but his line “Just watch me” had more MBTY attitude than anyone. Plus, he flipped off the people of Salmon Arm. That will never happen in this election.

If it does, I’m voting for the person who does it. And it doesn’t have to be Salmon Arm. Just some in-general flipping off will suffice.

Actually, and this was before my time, Lester B Pearson was the guy we need more politicians to be like. Lester said “Hey, if we, along with the UN, use our soldiers to keep the peace, instead of making war, we can do some good and stabilize the Suez Crisis (also before my time).

“But Lester, it will make us look weak if we cooperate with the other countries. Plus, making war is a lot cooler than making peace.”

“Screw it. It’s the right thing to do.”

One Nobel Peace Prize later, Canada has a solid, global reputation of fairness and general help-outive-iness.

So, for my comedian friends (paid and otherwise) out there, enjoy the next 37 and one half months. They will be a gold mine of material. For you political junkies, enjoy as well. As for me, I’ll continue to stay unplugged from the political maelstrom, and I’ll be the better for it.

I’m not sure what that says about my penis size, but I’m not in Grade 3 anymore.

*By the way, notice that parliament is not running the country for the next while. Uh oh. I guess that’s the end of Canada as we know it. How will we survive?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *