Yo, Tech Answer Guy,
I am the Prime Minister of the greatest country in the world...well, a country with the potential to be the greatest in the world, in any case, if everybody would just do what I say and not ask so many impertinent questions about - you know - consequences and stuff. Consequences are so...day after tomorrow, don't you think? I'm so Zen...except when it comes to wreaking holy vengeance on my enemies - then, I'm more Old Testament Biblical. Seriously, though, I am a here and now kind of guy. Except when it comes to the future greatness of my country.
Aaaaaaanyway...
I'll be dropping the writ (I'm such a butterfingers!) in a couple of weeks, and I was doing a pre-election interview when I brought up the issue of the Leader of the Opposition wanting to turn the nation's youth into drug fiends by legalizing marijuana for adults. I got to the part where I cited the thousands of grocery store and ATM robberies by weed addicts when I felt a warm tingling in my nether regions. At first, I thought it was just the pleasure I always get when sticking it to the opposition. But, then the woman who was conducting the interview shouted: "Oh, my god, your pants are on fire!"
A Secret Service agent threw himself on the fire and immediately smothered it. He should probably be given a danger pay bonus for his heroic actions in saving my...private member. Or, better yet, a thank you card. Yes, a thank you card would save the taxpayers money. Does Hellmark have cards for such occasions? If not, I can always ask FleishmanHillard to create one.
In any case, I felt I couldn't continue with charred pants, so the interview was abor...err, ended prematurely. I chalked it up to spontaneous combustion caused by too many years of Liberal misrule and thought nothing more of it.
A couple of days later, I was once again explaining that my government's legislation intended to curb voter fraud had nothing to do with giving my party unfair electoral advantages (it's amazing that I didn't even need Botox to keep a straight face) when I smelled sulfur. It's a pleasant enough smell, one with which I am more than accustomed, but usually in the privacy of my office, not on the floor of the House of Commons during Question Period. Once again, my pants had ignited. Fortunately, the quick-thinking Master at Arms put the fire out with the ceremonial mace.
It's been a week and a half since it started, and it seems that I cannot speak in public without some form of slackal immolation occurring. The clear implication is that, to keep my lower half safe, I shall have to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth from now on. But, that simply isn't possible: I have an election to win!
Is there anything I can do?
Sincerely,Yo, Classy,
It sounds like an old schoolyard taunt, doesn't it? "Politician, politician, your pants are munitions!" Or, something like that - I...I was held back a grade. In kindergarten.
You could try wearing asbestos underwear. They are heavy - you'll be waddling as though you were eight months pregnant with twins - which has the unfortunate potential to sensitize you to the needs of expectant mothers - which will make cutting their benefits harder. And, you'll have to bring several changes of pants to each event - although that won't be a problem as I'm sure you'll be able to write it off as an election expense.
Or you could, umm, stop lying. At first, it may be hard for you, but, like any other unfamiliar behaviour, it gets easier with practice.
And, you never know, perhaps the public is ready for a politician willing to tell them the truth. Not you, of course - if the public finds out the truth about how you have been governing for the past decade, you'll be lucky if you aren't lynched. But, perhaps your example will inspire other politicians to follow your lead into the undiscovered country.
After all, they never know when pants on fire will affect them.
The Tech Answer Guy
If you are a dude with a question about the latest technology, ask The Tech Answer Guy by sending it to questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Just remember: Comparing bad events in your life to being poked in the eye with a sharp stick is unfair to the stick. How do you know you won't enjoy being poked in the eye with a sharp stick if you have never tried it? Oh, sure, you may be worried that you'll lose the eye, but, given a lack of direct evidence either way, that's just negative thinking, isn't it?