Send in the clowns, all six of them

With the upcoming federal election I decided to use some of my time to monitor all the bozos who claim they have the vision to run a country like Canada.

The current line-up is particularly appalling, to be polite.  It's like being forced to purchase a car and having to pick between a '86 Aries K, a '88 Pony and a '87 Cavalier, none of them roadworthy.  It's like, you pick a car, whatever which one you choose you know you will end up in a ditch, you just don't know what permanent damage you will suffer.    

Seeing Trudeau-the-Younger in the newspapers is a source of profound dismay. His IQ is so low he is not even aware of his own deficiencies.  MiniTrudeau has carved a deficit so deep that 22nd century Canadian history books will dedicate a whole chapter on his moronic administration, complete with a collage of every time he cried in public.

I'm sure the English lexicon will need to come up with new number names to quantity the black hole he is creating as we speak. I propose a trudeaullion, 10 minus 128.  Even my beloved HP 12c is giving me an error message as I try to compute Canada's deficit, that should tell you something.

So sad, so bleak.

Appliances & Social Unrest

My chauffeur was taking me down to CGI headquarter from a quarterly board meeting - a true delight that I have been waiting for.  Tony opened up the radio as we were stuck in trafic - another Montreal classic deficiency - when I heard something odd in the car speakers.

Down in the street there is violence
And a lots of work to be done
No place to hang out our washing
And I can't blame all on the sun, oh no

This is intriguing, the singer first observes that the social fabric of his neighbourhood is going down the drain and actions need to be taken.  Next, he seems to have a laundry issue of some sort, which may related or not to previously mentioned social unrest.  Then the singer attempts to find the cause of his bed linen problems on the sun, only to conclude that it is not the only cause.

We gonna rock down to Electric Avenue
And then we'll take it higher
Oh we gonna rock down to Electric Avenue
And then we'll take it higher

His hands are full with dirty underwear and then he plans to take it to an avenue that has a utility coverage.  Which is smart in a way, because washing machines requires electricity.

What is confusing is that he said that he wants to take it higher.  Does he mean a couple of blocks north?  Does he plan to walk there with his washing machine strapped on his back?  Nonsense.

Workin' so hard like a soldier
Can't afford a thing on TV
Deep in my heart I'm a warrior
Can't get food for them kid, good God

Singer then says he fully bills his client, which is music to my ears.  He then proceed to complain - again - this time about some junk he probably saw on a late-night infomercial.  Sham wow, anyone?  The singer then identify himself with some kind of medieval military staff.  Look pal, I'm sure real warriors take care of their appliances before hitting battlefield, the last thing you want on your mind when you slice open your enemy is why the dryer does not beep at the end of the cycle.

If his plate was not full enough with street violence, wet socks and compulsive buying problems, the singer informs us that despite working full time he is not able to feed his children.

Who is to blame in one country
Never can get to the one
Dealin' in multiplication
And they still can't feed everyone, oh no

Confusion and rambling, this is what this song is about.  Instead of laying out his personal deficiencies in lyrics, the singer should pay attention to the horizon line, keep his path uncluttered, tune out unnecessary noise (especially noise coming from his washer/dryer) and guard his precious time.  Money will then take root and thrive, and his then kids will be so full with Cheerios.        

Retirement - Part I

Hi folks, it’s been almost 4 years since we talked!  I know, I should be acting like a retired CEO, play golf with my buddies and learn non-productive skills like oil painting, wood working or snowblower maintenance.

The thing is, ever since Georgie has been nominated CEO at CGI in 2016 I’ve been working triple shifts as a board director to ensure that the Greatest Corporation on Earth is heading in the right direction.

Today I can reassure members, CGI is here to stay.  We have a great team in place, profitable growth has been ingrained into our DNA and members in India are still dancing to showcase their love for our stock price.

I have to confess that free time started popping in my agenda recently, at first I thought it was a mistake and that my assistant Natalie was suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder.  She argued her case, no Mr. Roach, your schedule is clear all afternoon.

How can that be?  No press conference to announce an acquisition?  No internal review committee?  Maybe I could drop by a hiring process to ensure that candidates have a deep knowledge of our current and future customers?  I am sure Shindler needs me to analyze the quarterly reports, right?

No, she said raising both eyebrows, there is really nothing.  I am sorry, she said.

I felt a knot in my throat, cold sweat ran down my spine, my watch felt suddenly heavy.  Nothing?  I went back to my office and stared at the Montreal skyline for a minute or so.  My mind struggled to accept the void, the unbearable absence of urgent things to do.  I opened my laptop to watch how GIB.TO was doing that day, it was a fun but quick distraction.

I popped into Georgie’s office in hope that I would be urgently required for strategic brainstorming, alas he was not there.  I opened some of the folders on his desk, secretly wishing I could find some nugget to chew on, but everything was in order.

Gasp.  

Going off the rail

Poor Phil, it seems that the once rock-solid neurosurgeon is now floating in hyper-space looking for his place in history.  This picture says it all, unfocused gaze, almost hallucinating and dreaming of electric sheep.  Curly also suffered from this syndrome, although Phil has more acute symptoms.

Phil The First has now the following mindset: the poorest province of Canada should rival the richest state of the U.S.  While attending a panel in France on electric vehicles, Phil 1st had a striking vision, one so powerful that he almost soiled himself.  Zero-emission vehicles will a requirement in Pothole Country, like California.

I know how this guy is thinking.  In his dreams Hydro-Québec will replace Shell, Irving and Petro-Canada as everyone will be forced to use electric cars.  If you want a gasoline car in 2020 in Quebec, Carlos will force a 300% tax upon you because your behaviour is not Earth-friendly.  State-owned charging stations everywhere with the HydroQ logo, I can picture government workers being paid 75K a year to charge your car.  Self-serve?  Forget about it, unions will take care of this.

In a not so distant past, doctors would use electricity to a different purpose when you were acting all weird like this...

Santa is so not coming to town

I’m being torn sometimes when I hear holiday music over the radio, which rarely happens since I ask my chauffeur to tune in to CNBC on Sirius XM when I need to deeply relax after a day at work.  Hearing Jim Kramer ranting about some stock soothes my nerves.  Some people enjoy Japanese meditation music, me I like hearing a Wall Street junkie go overboard about some apparently hot stock.

But I digress, holiday music brings into focus a fictional character who goes by the name of Santa Claus.  Mr. Claus has a strange business model that even as a kid I had a hard time grasping.  This guys runs an operation that is - by all accounts - fairly large since he serves customers all over the world.  Yet, Santa does not report any revenues whatsoever, does not file a 10-K and does not have any shareholders that I know of.  Distributing toys for free all over the world must be terribly expensive, I cannot wrap my mind on all the operating charges that Santa must have.

When I have 5 I recall saying to my mom that I suspected Santa was a socialist who was fond of the work of Karl Marx.  I had estimated his balance sheet for the upcoming Christmas using my Crayola set and it was bleeding red ink.

Today I suspect that Santa runs a non-profit organization funded entirely by the Quebec government who is so keen to throw money everywhere without any hope of ROI.  I called Carlos Leitao the other day and he did not deny or acknowledge my hypothesis, he was rather uncomfortable discussing the topic I could tell.  The truth is out there, I told him, one day or another this guy will make the headlines.

“Should Santa Claus generate any revenue in Quebec he will be taxed as a corporation” said Carlos in his well-known neutral tone.

“So Santa exists?”

“The existence of a corporation is handled by the Registraires des entreprises, you can look it up on the Internet”.  Carlos is so by-the-book it is painful sometimes.

“Am I as a taxpayer paying for Santa’s worldwide operations, Carlos, tell me the truth.”

“It is a complex question, Mr. Roach.  I would be more than happy to let you talk with one of my people who handles non-profil organizations.”

This bureaucrat was hard to corner, dealing with Raymond Bachand was a different ball game.  So I went straight to his guts, Rocky-style fashion.

“Carlos, does Santa require a permit in Quebec to distribute free toys, what form does he have to fill, is there an annual fee for Santa to pay, does his sleigh requires a licence plate from the SAAQ, does he have a GST/QST number, is there a Quebec-specific tax for jolly old fellows, tell me now”

Carlos was flabbergasted to say the least, he first assured me that Santa was compliant with Quebec legislation.  “This is a delicate situation, and we are not taking it lightly.  We increased the Toy Distribution Sales Tax from 5% to 9% this year hoping to generate additional revenues.  However Santa told us that Quebec would be excluded from his 2015 world tour, doing business here is now impossible or let’s just say too difficult for the time being.  We talked about increasing the tax more slowly instead of a sharp increase but Mr. Claus says his decision was final.”

I took a stern tone.  “So Santa will do BC, Alberta, Ontario, the Maritimes but his sleigh will just jump over Quebec for fiscal reasons, is that what are you saying Carlos?”

“This is a business decision on his end.  I talked with the prime minister about this but you know how Mr. Couillard is acting these days, if it is not an environment-friendly project he just throws a tantrum.  So maybe Christmas will be back in 2016, do not despair.  Santa has been made aware of our negotiations with public workers, most of them are on his naughty list anyway.”

“You killed Christmas, you know that Carlos?”

“Let’s just say we are trying to balance the budget the best we can.  Now I need to go, I have meeting with my directors to discuss new taxes for 2017.  Happy Christmas to you, Michael.”

That’s it, you learned it from me.  There will not be a Christmas this year, thanks to the vicious tax legislation of Carlos the Banditos.

Couillard predicts the future and then some

I know it's been a while, a long hiatus even more an active guy like me.  But the truth is, and it hurts my humble ego to write these words, I told you so.  The world is being fedexed to hell, probably COD.

Prime Minister Couillard who suffers from delusion and folie des grandeurs like all politicians can now add "Predictor of Things to Come" in his LinkedIn profile.  Phil traveled to Paris apparently without his medication but with Quebec's check book, and generously gave 25 million dollars to other French-speaking nations so they can lower their emissions.  Like, Nigeria? Or maybe another corrupted dictatorship in Africa?  They have gas-powered scooters and Land Rovers, right?  Therefore they release toxic emission.  So let's send them a fat check and that will fix the problem by 2050.  Yes, monsieur Couillard, send us the money, says the environment minister of Nigeria who usually prefers Western Union for all things official.

Spending the taxpayer dollar to get a hug from Al Gore is one thing, but this week-end our beloved Phil claimed that natural gas will be a thing of the past by 2050.  Why?  Because they are bad, that's it.  A friend of mine who is over there told me that his futuristic statement raised a few eyebrows in the crowd.  During the 7-course meal afterward, I've been told that Couillard the First said even more bold statements, like Quebec will outlaw the use of regular light bulbs in 2018, the use of wood-fire stoves will be a criminal offense soon and so much more.  "A garbage truck is so 20th century" he told an AFP journalist.  "Quebec will be the first nation to force its citizen to compost everything, the world will be green with envy" he said laughing at his own joke.  "What about canned food, how do you turn metal into compost?" asked a twenty-something French journalist.  "People need to re-think how they purchase food, you have a point.  Quebec will prohibit canned food by 2019.  Yeah, that's right.  This is a great idea, this is my idea.  And I will ask Carlos to come up with a tax on canned food next year, this is even better."

Then Phil pursued an intense conversation with himself, even ignoring a tap on his shoulder from Al Gore.

Friends, I told you we were on the brink of disaster when Curly was in charge of the province.  Now we are merging with disaster.  Strap your seat belts.

Bachand explains how the universe will collapse before the next election

The King of Creative Accounting is seen here as he explains that the universe will eventually collapse into a sphere the size of a melon, at which point fundamental particles will break down and everything will turn into a warm bowl of quarks.  Raymond was quick to demonstrate that the public debt will not matter at this point, whatever will remain of Moody's will be irrelevant and - most importantly - everyone will be happy.  So go spend your discretionary money while there's still time, he said.

A few journalists scratched their head but no one challenged the physics behind this.

Happy Raymond then explained to this fans in a casual tone that the annual deficit - not the debt - is apparently lower than expected.  This comes as a total surprise, considering that he raised the provincial tax by 2 points during the past 24 months, that he also raised taxes on gasoline, that wines & spirits sold by the Quebec government are prohibitively expensive, just to name a few things.  Ray then reassured everyone that his administration was the best thing on Earth.

Er.

Imagine yourself on a cruise, as you sip a gin tonic on the upper deck you hear the sound of the captain's voice on the speaker.  The ship has hit an iceberg and iced water is rushing inside the hull.  Some harsh critics on board theorize that the ship could be sinking, considering that water cannot enter a ship indefinitely, but the entire staff reassures passengers that everything is under control.  To prove the point, captain Raymond "The Unsinkable" Bachand holds a small press conference in the ballroom.

"There are good news", says the jolly captain.  "We managed to patch some of the holes and the ship is now sinking at a lower rate".  Everyone in the audience gives the captain a round of applause.  "It's true that we used body parts from casualties to fill those holes, but is was limited to middle class passengers.  It is normal to ask of those to contribute their fair share so the ship doesn't go down.  Rest assured, lower class passengers will not be asked to contribute".  The crowd erupted in joy.

"But there's more!" says Captain Bachand.  "We dispatched more staff with buckets in the lower decks, and everyone is hard at work to remove the water.  Within the next 2 years we should be able to evacuate as much water out as it is coming in, this will be a terrific achievement!"

The crowd cheered and raised their glasses of champagne to the well-being of the smart commander of the ship, and sang loudly : Ride, captain ride, upon your mystery ship.  Be amazed, at the friends, you have here on your trip.

Find your lifejacket before the government prohibits them.