It is cloudy in the crystal ball, but eventually the mist clears and all becomes apparent. The messy goat entrails on the floor separate and become understandable. Slowly, the future becomes clear. All, in 1997, becomes discernible.
Michael Jackson, again divorced, will marry Madonna, who has been divorced once, before she became again virginal although she has a child, non-related to Michael who allegedly through another lady, will also produce one. We think it’s a turkey-baster baby.
Sheila Copps, who after her GST debacle topped things off by claiming that only 19 employees of the CBC— her portfolio—had been sacked and had to admit she got her evidence through a newspaper columnist she had read, will say something stupid. Bet your house on it.
The Vancouver Canucks will not win the Stanley Cup, despite having the two most exciting players in the American Hockey League.
Frank McKenna of New Brunswick, the Computer Colossus of Canada, will despair at the lead Paul Martin has over him in the race to become the next prime minister, and will accept a Bay Street salary verging on $3 million (U.S.) to teach Matthew Barrett how to use a computer. Elizabeth Dole will start her run to be the Republican candidate for president in the propitious year of 2000. She can actually speak in sentences.
Parson Manning, following on his tremendous political success in showing up in the House of Commons with a haircut out of the Fonz, will appear this year with his head entirely shaved—à la Michael Jordan—with his baseball cap on backwards. People in Red Deer will cry in the streets. Tony Blair will slaughter John Major in the British spring election, the Tory PM being replaced by Michael (Tarzan) Heseltine who has been described by an upperclass Tory as “the type of man who will comb his hair in public.”
Six more generals of the Canadian Army—heroes of Vimy Ridge and Dieppe—will be forced to resign over charges that they forced delivery women of Pizza Hut to stand in the snow while they searched for thencredit cards. Plus the fact they were detected in a smuggling racket to bring in black market giggling Tickle Me Elmo dolls for Christmas.
Admiral Turbot of Newfoundland, who honed his blarney as a disc jockey at an American military base on the Rock—despairing at the lead Paul Martin has on him to be the next PM—will accept the offer to succeed Peter Gzowski as host of Morningside.
Speaking of that, the confused J. Chrétien, despairing of his disastrous choice of the gormless Tory Perrin Beatty as doomed boss of the CBC, will finally take his cojones in his hand and do what no previous PM has had to the courage to do. Appoint Moses Znaimer, who has lusted after the job ever since he was a black-leather-jacketed, smart-ass, Montreal, ambitious, TV reporter. He’s the only hope to take The Corpse into the next century which Laurier, IOC years prescient, said would belong to the Great White North.
Neither Al Gore, for the Democrats, nor Jack Kemp, for the Republicans will be their party’s candidate for president in 2000. You read it here last.
Lucien Bouchard, who misses hi? leg less than he does his own party’s support, will become increasingly depressed at the knowledge that the hard-core separatist believers in the Parti Québécois don’t really trust him, an opportunist who has flitted through four political parties in his adult life. Alley are correct. Aheir distrust—and his troubled personal family fife—will wear him down. Hanging on him like an anchor will be the lurking presence of lugubrious Jacques Parizeau, who promises to be “not far away”—a Marley’s Ghost forever clanking his chains in the background. As the philosopher said, don’t worry about my enemies, just protect me from my friends.
Alie Green Bay Packers will win the Stuporbowl.
The best story of 1997 will not be in the West Bank of Israel but in Hong Kong, where on July 1 the passover of control from the British Opi urn Wars Raj to Beijing will cause a stupendous dividend to hotel shareholders due to the 6,347 reporters on expense accounts flood ing the colony’s inns without a stable.
A stubborn J. Chrétien, urged by his wise and sensible wife, Aline to quit while he’s ahead and resign quietly after his victory nex spring, will instead resent the rising reputation of Paul Martin as th,. strongest leader in the government, and will obstinately hang in foanother term. While being the only Liberal prime minister this cen tury who cannot carry his own province.
Michael Johnson, the finest curve sprinter in history, will embar rassingly wipe out Donovan Bailey in their hyped-up 150-m matcl race in Toronto’s SkyDome on May 31. In a straight-out 150-m dash Bailey could survive. On a curve, which his bulky body detests, nc a chance.
Madonna, dumb, dumb, predicting that she will win an Oscar fc Evita, will not get it. After all, there’s Michael waiting.
William Jefferson Clinton, the most genitally challenged pres, dent since John Fitzgerald Kennedy, will survive his sexual harass ment accusations from Paula Jones, mainly because the America’ public is bored, preferring an early-randy boy to a Bob Dole who pc them to sleep while Slick Willie was out working the singles bars.
J. Chrétien will wrestle no one to earth this year. Nor improve his dictioj
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