Conrad, you heartless bastard!
Getting sued by Conrad Black for libel is a rite of passage for pundits. It ranks right up there with soiling your pants during friendly fire at an Ottawa Roughriders game and getting drunk at the Sasquatch and Firkin and throwing up in Peter Mansbridge’s lap. It’s how you know you have entered the punditocracy, and are no longer just a lone nut on a pityingly small soapbox.
Unfortunately, the glory days of using the justice system to harass journalists came to an end when Black was indicted on seven counts of fraud. As Morgan Freeman truly said in Seven: “This is going to end badly.” Black could end up in prison, in which case he will have more important things to worry about than pursuing frivolous lawsuits. Or, Black could end up bankrupt after a long trial, leaving him in no financial position to use the courts to prop up his ego.
Either way, it’s the end of an era.
It’s not like I haven’t given Black ample reason to sue me for libel over the years. I once called him a corporate thug with a big vocabulary and a smart suit. Surely, that was worth an indignant lawyer’s letter demanding a public apology! Or, how about the time I referred to The National Post as Black’s Xanadu? That, surely, merited a stern rebuke and threat of legal action. That’s not to mention all the references to Black’s penchant for using the legal system like a bludgeon against his critics – okay, it may have been meta-poking Black repeatedly with a sharp stick, but I would have accepted a meta-lawsuit.
I’ve done my part, Conrad. You’ve been such a disappointment to me.
It gets worse. For his final lawsuit before being indicted, Black sued Peter C. Newman! How unfair is that?! Newman was already being sued by former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney – the least Black could have done was chosen a writer who didn’t already have any pending legal actions.
This may not seem that important to you, but you’ve never had to hear Stevie Cameron gloat: “I remember the first time I got notice of a pending lawsuit by Conrad Black. I was so proud – it was a much better indicator of my journalistic skills than my degree from Ryerson – in fact, I framed the notice and put it up next to my degree from Ryerson. I didn’t have to buy a drink for the next week, all the reporters at the Sasquatch and Firkin bought me congratulatory rounds. Not that you would know anything about it…”
You see the problem? I’m getting dissed by Stevie bloody Cameron! Could my humiliation be any more complete?
Look, Conrad, there’s still time. Before David Radler testifies against you, how much work can your lawyers be doing? Surely, you could get one to fire off a warning letter to me. How long could it take? Five minutes – 10 minutes, tops. Your guys have done it so often, they can probably do it in their sleep. Hell, let them get their kids to write me a notice of action. I’ll accept it in crayon – I’m not proud.
I’ll admit it, Conrad: I’m desperate. Not as desperate as Hugh Lockmore, perhaps, but – you don’t remember Hugh Lockmore? He was the Toronto Telegram reporter who boasted that he had the most vituperative lawyer’s letter you had ever sent a journalist. People started getting suspicious when Lockmore refused to produce the letter – those were the days when journalists still liked to see evidence for themselves.
He had never received so much as a sneeze from you, of course. When finally forced to produce the letter, Lockmore gave out copies of a crude forgery that even a credulous Bush administration wouldn’t accept as real. When the truth became known, he was finished. I understand he does a morning show in Calgary, now. You managed to destroy a journalist without lifting a finger.
Do you understand the power you hold over us, Conrad? If you don’t sue me soon, I’ll just have to take up drinking. Do you know where the Sasquatch and Firkin that Peter Mansbridge hangs out in is?