Do the Right Thing, Eddie 

As an introduction, let me add this little note of clarification. This month’s Prairie Post is a little bit different. Oh, the features are all here but this month, we feature encore presentations of the Tumbleweed of the Month as well as the Interview. After all, they get away with this on television, don’t they?

Now on with the editorial segment which you will be pleased to hear is a brand spanking new and fresh offering.

It looks as if this might be the watershed moment for the alleged Premier, the seemingly less than Steady Eddie Stelmach. As it turns out, the former Premier, Ralph Klein may have had an inadvertent hand in returning Eddie’s credibility with Albertans.

According to our white knight, the crusading Fred (that’s How It’s) Dunn, the Auditor General, you and me and the rest of our fellow Albertans have been fleeced to the tune of nearly one billion bucks because Ralph and his energy minister Greg Melchin had a hard time asking the energy companies for a fair share of the resource revenue the big boys in the board rooms have been wallowing in for years. Melchin apparently sat on reports for over seven years that showed how Albertans were getting the raw end of the royalty deal. He elected, in the Auditor General’s words, “decided not to go forward,” with a royalty rate hike back in 2005. Greg Melchin is now the Minister for Seniors a relatively low profile portfolio. In fact, his profile ought to be so low he’d have a hard time looking over a garter snake’s shoulder. He should be low profiled right out of the cabinet.

The current minister, Mel (Dim as) Knight, actually was affronted that the Auditor General had the temerity to dig for the truth telling everybody that the Auditor General had engaged in “personal attacks.” Way to stand in there and take responsibility for the screw-ups, Mel. All this posturing has merely reinforced the feeling among Albertans that something is horribly amiss with our royalty policy and the government has spent more energy on cover-ups than fixes.

If Eddie Stelmach truly believes the words that he speaks, if he truly believes that this is an entirely new government leagues apart from the Klein era, then he will do the right thing. He will release a new royalty policy that gives Albertans their fair share of the wealth of this province. If he caves in to the oil industry interests who cry wolf every time somebody threatens to adjust the oil royalty rates, then it will be more of the same old, same old. Recent polls have indicated that this is a huge issue with Albertans who are finally starting to wake up to years of Alberta government mismanagement of the province’s resources. Eddie Stelmach will either rise or fall on the decision he makes regarding the new royalty rate structure. If it turns out all his talk was merely that then turn out will be the operative phrase because Eddie’s term as Premier will be short-lived indeed. On the other hand, if he has the true interests of Albertans at heart and follows through on his rhetoric to get the best deal possible for Alberta, then his stature as Premier will be immensely enhanced. It’s up to you Ed to make it or break it. I, along with my fellow Albertans, am calling on you to match actions with words. C’mon Eddie, do the right thing. 

                         Please enjoy this encore interview originally presented in June 2003.

Interview With Chief Justice Allan Wachowich

The Chief Justice Shpeaks

(As We Imagine It) 

Alright, I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist the cheap joke but sometimes one’s baser instincts take hold and you just can’t help yourself. Just like those fresh baked cookies your mom told you not to touch but . . . well, you know. In a way though, it serves to highlight the purpose of this month’s feature interview. Those of you who are regular visitors here know that last month, the Chief Justice of the Alberta Court of Queen’s Bench, was the Tumbleweed of the Month award winner ( for those who are new to this site, welcome, and you’ll find the Tumbleweed of the Month Allan Wachowich in the archives, in May 2003 by happy coincidence).

Comments came from certain quarters that intimated that I had unfairly portrayed the Honourable Chief Justice and the ethical double standard that governs his behaviour as opposed to those who enter the hallowed halls of justice every day and come before him or his colleagues. I obviously disagree with those comments and my position remains that the  public deserves a Chief Justice with the highest moral and ethical standards; justice must not only be done but it must also be seen to be done or however that goes.

Nonetheless, irrespective of my own personal opinion on the matter, and to prove that I don’t have a rigid, dogmatic approach to the question, I offered this interview to the Chief Justice as a way for him to mount a rebuttal. It proved to be a very interesting conversation. We met a few days ago at the Dover Hotel in northwest Edmonton. Our conversation follows.

Q. Chief Justice Wachowich?

A. Huh?

Q. Chief Justice Wachowich. You agreed to do an interview with me so you can set the record straight with the readers of the Prairie Post. This is your chance to dispel what you say is a false impression of you that appeared in last month’s edition. The floor is yours.

A. There, you sonofab****, you’ve started already. I thought this was supposed to be fair. I don’t fall on the floor anymore, not for a long time!

Q. Look, watch your language or this interview ends now! Besides, I didn’t say you were on the floor, I said the floor is yours, you know, your turn to speak.

A. Oh, right, I must have heard you wrong. The boys are making a bit of a racket in here, with shift change at the Calder yard you know. Guys, pipe down, I’m trying to talk here! Thanks. That’s better. Hey, I was p***** off when . . .

Q. What did I tell you about the language?

A. Ah, yeah, well I was upset when I read that garbage you wrote about me, making me out to be a drunk, a gambler, and a womanizer. You got it all wrong, and considering who I am, it was contemptible. Hmm, contempt, not a bad idea.

Q. Look, I think . . .

A. Hold on a minute will ya? Millie! Millie! Another one here, honey. You want something, a drink, ah, the steak sandwich here is quite good.

Q. No, thank you. I’m fine.

A. What, the Mad Cow got your taste buds? Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Q. Chief Justice Wachowich!

A. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Q. Chief Justice Wachowich! Al!

A. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! What?

Q. I said no thank you.

A. Mad cow got your taste buds. Ha! Ha! Ha! You know, sometimes I just crack myself up.

Q. I can see that.

A. You were saying?

Q. I was just about to ask . . .

A. Hey, Millie honey. Where’s my drink? Ah, here you are. You just keep getting prettier and prettier sweety. How about you and I wrestle some legal arguments back in my chambers? Know what I mean, umm? Ow! That hurt. I know you’ve been here for forty years. So have I! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! You’d miss it if I didn’t try, wouldn’t you honey?

Q. Well, I guess you just answered one of the questions I was going to ask.

A. What’s that?

Q. You have a reputation as a bit of a womanizer and I was going to ask you about it but you just demonstrated that your reputation is well deserved.

A. You mean that there with Millie? That? It’s just a bit of fun she and I have had for years. She knows I don’t mean anything by it, don’t you honey? There, you see. You’re sure you’re not hungry?

Q. Not really. The pungent aroma of Pinesol tends to take away my appetite.

A. Funny, I’ve never noticed it.

Q. Go figure. Anyway, since you skilfully put the rumours of your womanizing to bed . . .

A. I swear I never touched her let alone got her into bed. It’s just harmless banter here in the bar.

Q. Let me finish. I meant since you dealt with the womanizing rumours, I want to ask you about another one of your rumoured vices, your gambling. To my mind, that’s the worst type of addiction.

A. I bet you a hundred bucks it isn’t!

Q. There, you see what I mean?

A. What?

Q. You were going to bet me just now and that proves my point about the gambling addiction.

A. What point? Millie! Another one here, eh.

Q. The point that gambling is only exciting to the gambler if he wagers more than he can lose.

A. Hey, are you saying I’m not good for the hundred? ‘Cause as soon as I get to the LRT . . .

Q. No, no, of course not. What I meant was gamblers get themselves in a pickle because they’ve lost much more than they can afford but that is the thrill of the risky behaviour. That’s the addictive ingredient that makes gambling one of the hardest vices to kick.

A. Who says I’m pickled? Don’t get smart with me, a******.

Q. I warned you. No bad language! I just meant that serious gamblers, especially those in high places, are susceptible to all sorts of controlling interests. That explains your frequent trips to Las Vegas and your 20-year relationship with Eskandar Ghermezian or your financial arrangements with Terry Terrabain, you know, those quickie, high interest loans.

A. Sssshhh! Not so loud!

Q. No wonder Terry’s “acquaintances” got off the hook so many times.

A. Hey, I wasn’t the only judge! I mean, what are you talking about?

Q. Did you ever play poker with John Weir? Are you familiar with the term “scared” money?

A. Millie! Bring me a double, will ya? No, I don’t remember. Scared money?

Q. You’re sure? I’ll give you a little gambling  advice. Never play with scared money.

A. Look, I said I don’t remember, okay? Quit badgering the witness! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Q. Good one, Al.

A. Hey Millie honey, I’m empty here. I told you . . . I told you . . . I told you . . . what did I tell you again?

Q. I don’t know what you were going to tell me.

A. Well pay attention next time! I have to remember everything for you? Shir, in my court, you will pay attention! Order! Order! Order! I’ll have a scotsh and shoda. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Q. I think I had better go.

A. You, shir, have abshatively no shense of hummer, ah hoomer, erp, humour! I’ll drink to that! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Millie, my good woman, did anyone ever tell you that your fashe reminds me of a cute bunny rabbit, all grey and fuzzzzzzy! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Owch! What was that for? Sheeeeeeeesh, you try and shay shumpin romaaa . . . romaaaa . . . romaaaaaaaa  . . . nishe and look what you get.

Q. I really do think I should go now. I think you’ve made your position quite plain.

A. Nonshenshe! Shtay. Ish that a gavel under my robe or am I jusht happy to shee you! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Millie, your shlowing down in my old age! One for the road, the sidewalk, the streetlight, the what else? Hmmmmm . . . the treesh! Yes, the treesh. I love the enviro . . . I love the enviro . . . I love the enviro . . . nashure. It’sh sho nashural! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Q. I’m going to call you a cab.

A. But my name ish Al! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Fore! May I play through? Caddy, my Caddy! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! It’sh time to DRIVE home. Get it? D-R-I-I-E ah, no D-I-V-R ah, that’sh not it, D-I-V-O-R-C-E, do you like Tammy Wynette? She’sh dead, poor woman, sho shad. Sniff. Did she play guitar, I mean golf, drive, you know D-R-E-V-P-R-N-D-L Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Q. I am sorry, ladies and gentlemen but the Chief Justice seems to be a little bit ah, distracted at the moment so . . .

A. Dishtracted, I’m pished! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Oopsh!

Q. Oh for crying out loud, here, let me help you up. Just sit there until I can get you a cab. Millie, could you bring the Chief Justice some strong coffee please? Thanks.

A. Here come da judge, here come da judge, here come da judge, here come da judge . . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Q. Thanks Millie. Al! Al! Wake up! Wake up! Drink this! Come on, that’s a boy.

A. Did you jusht ashault the Cheeeef Jusht, the Cheeeef Jusht, ah me?

Q. No sir, I merely attempted to bring you around.

A. I could have you shlammed into the throwner, jusht shee if I don’t. Then again, I wishhhh I could jusht sheee . . .

Q. That’s it. Just a little more now. There you go.

A. It’sh too hot. Blow on it for me. Pleash. Pretty pleash with drambuie on it! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Q. Take it easy. There, try that.

A. Mush better. I’m gonna have a nap now.

Q. Oh no you don’t. Come on, stand up. Come on. Let’s walk outside for a little bit, left right, left, right, okay Al, outside.

A. It’sh fine weather thish time of night, ishn’t it?

Q. Yeah, beautiful. Just keep walking around until the cab gets here. Man, you’re heavy.

A. He ain’t heaveeeeeeeeee! He’s my, he’s my, what comesh nexsht?

Q. Brother! Brother!

A. You don’t look like Ed.

Q. No, the next word in the song is brother.

A. What shong? Shing a shong of shixpensh, a pocket full of rye! Pocket full of rye? Ooohh! Good idea but I have a queshtun if it pleashes the court? Wash it one of thoshe little, tiny, little, little, small, little, wee, small, little bottlesh or a twenny shix onsher?

Q. I don’t know.

A. Youronner, thish goesh to the heart of the cashe at hand. Cashe of twelve or twenny-four? My shteamed counshel hash the emptiesh to prove it.

Q. Great. Here’s the cab. Come on, Al. Get in.

A. The defensh rushts, I mean reshts. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Q. Hi. What’s your name? Willy? Just drive around for a bit until the gentleman sobers up. Oh, you know him, huh? Third time this week? Unbelievable.

After a few hours, the Chief Justice began to come around and I decided to press on with the interview because I seriously doubt that I’ll get such an opportunity again.

A. Oooooh! My head hurts. Where are we going? Who are you?

Q. Remember we were conducting an interview but you decided you wanted to keep partying.

A. Oh yeah. Right. Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop here!

Q. What? What’s wrong?

A. I really have to go.

Q. Not here! Look, there’s a gas station over there. Pull in there, Willy, so the Chief Justice can freshen up.

A. Ooh yeah, thanks. I’ll be right back.

Q. Dum de dum de da da da and Billy Joe McCallister jumped off the Tallahatchee Bridge dum de da . . . what is he doing in there? Ah, here he comes. Feel better?

A. Much better if I don’t laugh. Ha! Ha! Owwww!

Q. Can we get on with it? I need to ask you some serious questions. Are you sure you feel up to it?

A. Not really but if I don’t you’re going to keep on writing letters like the ones you sent already.

Q. Oh, so you got the one in which I asked you to resign.

A. I got it alright! Owww! I can’t yell like that. Your audacious if not serious.

Q. Oh, but I was serious. Just think of the damage you have done to the justice system over the years since you became an Associate Chief Justice and then Chief Justice. Any of the cases you were involved in have to be called into question. And what about a few of the judges you appointed who were also suspect, you know, the judges with “favours” from the ATB,  the West Edmonton Mall, and the government?

A. How did you find out?

Q. Well, let’s just say that there are a few people who still believe that the justice system has to operate with integrity and have been offended by how you managed certain cases.

A. Well, what do you mean by saying I managed certain cases? Right, that’s the place. Just pull up here.

Q. I mean that you have allowed others to play on your weaknesses for their benefit. If you were an Albertan who had a legal grievance against the Ghermezians, the government, the ATB, or one of your legal buddies, a simple request to Al Wachowich would get the matter taken care of so that Albertan didn’t present a problem anymore. Justice was predetermined if you were a friend of Allan Wachowich. Your personal weakness let them own you to the detriment of the justice system as a whole. You can’t spin it anymore Al, if that is what you intended to do with this forum. If you read my letters carefully, you know that I know the whole story. Admit it. Those references in the letters weren’t lucky guesses. Give it up. Resign.

A. But I can’t resign.

Q. Why not?

A. It’ll ruin my reputation. I can’t have that and I won’t have it.

Q. Al, you took care of that when you signed and then subsequently sealed the order wrapping up the West Edmonton Mall litigation between the ATB and the Ghermezians. How in the world could you agree to that knowing your 20-year history with Eskandar Ghermezian? Did you use that money to cover the gambling losses? Was that it, Al? You couldn’t be impartial. It was in your interest to sign that order and then seal it so Albertans would never find out the truth, and then you would retire in your own good time with the polished legacy. But deep down, doesn’t that bother you, Al? Doesn’t it bother you that your whole legacy is a sham, your Honour? You know, if I had that hanging over my head, if I had to constantly battle those demons, I think I would drink too.

A. So what? You think you know all the answers but you don’t. What do you want me to say?

Q. How about “I resign,” Al, “I resign.”

A. No. I don’t think that’s going to happen. Do you want to know why that’s not going to happen, well do you?

Q. Easy Clint, why?

A. ‘Cause I have the power that’s why! Do you think those clowns at the ATB could have extricated themselves from the West Edmonton Mall public relations fiasco without my help? They couldn’t find their butt with both hands. How many times do you think I did favours for Eskandar Ghermezian? He’d still be broke if it wasn’t for me. And the government, what about them? You don’t think Albertans want to know how some of their caring cabinet ministers and cronies under the dome screwed them on that whole deal? I took care of that. I fixed it like I always fixed it. They need me because I know what happened. None of them could have gotten away with that massive fraud if it wasn’t for me. I controlled it. I managed it. I fixed it for God’s sake! And who are you to say I don’t deserve something for that. I answer to no one. They all owe me, all of them! They better not forget it, either. No, they had better not try to dump ol’ Al Wachowich. **** them and **** you!

Q. Al?

                              Here is a Tumbleweed that originally appeared in August, 2003.

                                                      Please enjoy this blast from the past.

Tumbleweed of the Month

Now, It Gets Really Weired 

Gather round, gather round. There’s lots of room for everyone so don’t push and shove. Comfortable? Alright, let us get down to business and announce what you all have been waiting breathlessly for, namely the Tumbleweed of the Month for August. Ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages (wow, I finally got to use that), I give you none other than John Weir, protector of all that is Ghermezian, the wide knight who got Elmer out of the glue, and a regular Perry Amazin’, Atticus Grinch, or Clarence Dareyou. Give a tip of the ol’ legal peruke to the talents of Mr. Weir, always ready for a fight, cane and able.

Savvy readers that you doubtless are, but already I see the sceptical and quizzical looks asking what qualifies Mr. Weir for such an august August award? Perceptive but suspicious lot, aren’t you? Well, as they say at Chalk River, here goes.

Mr. Weir was part of the legal WWW at a time before your first reaction was to think of an internet address. In this case, I mean he was an up and coming lawyer at Chancery Hall, the building in its day,  with Allan Wachowich and Bill Wilson. These three became friends and grew together to individual positions of power and prestige. Alas, all three, in various degrees, have blotted their copybooks.

Allan Wachowich’s transgressions have been fully documented here so check the archives. Justice Wilson apparently struggles with a wilful cognitive dysfunction. He took all of a minute and a half to sign my petition into bankruptcy despite being fully aware that I had assets to show I was not bankrupt. The Ghermezians and the old Triple Five Corp. on the other hand had no assets and several judgments against them but it took Justice Wilson, deftly adjourning creditors motions, nearly three and a half years to decide that he couldn’t decide that Triple Five Corp. should be petitioned into bankruptcy and the file got shipped to Calgary. Perhaps by the time he dealt with that situation, he had a desperate need for Evelyn Woods (salacious though it sounds, I’m sure you get what I mean). To add insult to injury, he had made his reputation on the bench as a bankruptcy judge yet he could not (supposedly) see the obvious and kept buying time for Triple Five, not to mention some of his colleagues on the bench.

But enough of the other two W’s. The focus here is our man, Weir (okay, so Wordsworth I ain’t. Shelley? Don’t call me Shelley). To wit (knock it off with the poetry stuff already), let us examine Mr. Weir’s labours with respect to the massive fraud known as the refinancing of the West Edmonton Mall, you know, the art of the steal. The motion before Justice Lefsrud in those long ago days of 1994 was John Weir’s but he cleverly let Jack Agrios carry the ball in court in case it got rough. He wasn’t dumb enough to let the money flow directly through him. John Weir, in essence, acted like he had rented his name but make no mistake about it. He knew what was going on; in fact, he was the architect of the plan. He did it for sport, you know la chasse, because he certainly didn’t need the money. John Weir, when asked what he got paid for this little court manipulated fraud, replied that he billed on an hourly rate. How convenient he failed to mention his direct cash payments from Eskandar that the partners at Weir Bowen didn’t know about. That makes his contribution to the fraud even more calculating and diabolical. He coolly arrived at court each day with his trademark Globe and Mail tucked securely under his arm, arrogantly confident in the outcome.

Over the course of my own dealings with a colleague of Mr. Weir’s, there were numerous occasions (in fact, almost daily over a period of a few months) when I had the opportunity to observe his behaviour or talk to him. The thing that most struck me was that he never had the guts to look me straight in the eye. That was unsettling. I am sure you know the feeling you get when that happens, the feeling that you can’t trust that individual. Based on recent knowledge, little did I know at the time how accurate that impression would ultimately prove to be.   

As we all know, that 1994 refinancing farce blew up in their collective faces, a regular Wile E. Coyote Acme banking moment. The canny Weir helped to call the legal shots in the Ghermezians multimillion dollar tiff with Alberta Treasury Branches (or the newly upscale ATB Financial as it is known now). He also represented the disgraced acting Superintendent of the very same ATB Elmer Leahy  while Elmer was being asked embarrassing questions about the malodorous procedure that surrounded the ATB loan and loan guarantee to West Edmonton Mall. There was even a mention of, horror of horrors, a bribe. Say it ain’t so Elmer! Curious about those bank records in his sister’s garage that happened to get incinerated in an out of control grass fire (in December!). Well, you know what they say-accidents do happen.

Meanwhile, TWOTM  John Weir had his client, the mild-mannered Mr. Leahy auditioning for his version of Where’s Elmer? Each time Mr. Weir was asked to reveal the whereabouts of Mr. Leahy, he would put on his best poker face and offer that the AS (acting Superintendent don’t you know) was feeling a little peaked and was on vacation. The Trustee in the West Edmonton Mall bankruptcy, not amused, made like the Scarlet Pimpernel and sought him here, he sought him there, he sought old Elmer everywhere. I hear they even checked out the gravel pit next to John Weir’s dream home. Although he wasn’t there, I do have my suspicions he hid out at Mr. Weir’s Laughlin, Nevada condo (his base of gambling operations) for a while.  Mr. Leahy was a truly gifted vacationer because it took over nearly two years before he was located in a swanky golf resort in Arizona and the local legal agents staked out his vacation paradise.

At once, the wily Weir offered an explanation why Elmer had been hiding for more than thirty-six hours from the stakeout at his condo (owned by Jake Superstein’s nephew-go figure). You see, poor Elmer didn’t realize that the process servers were acting for the Trustee in Canada. Mr. Weir said his client would have gladly accepted the subpoena had he known its origin. Excuse me, E. G. Marshall, wouldn’t that be your job to let him know that? Just asking.

Alas, shortly before Elmer was to be interviewed about what he knew, a miracle happened. The unpleasantness between the ATB and the Ghermezians was swiftly and secretly concluded and Elmer did not have to be examined by the Trustee. All of a sudden, his lawsuit went away as well (encouraged by the worldly Mr. Weir) and the AS disappeared from public view once again, well-rewarded through the back door (by the Ghermezians again-facilitated by the talents of Mr. Weir) for his change of heart. M’lud certainly does move in mysterious ways.

To ensure that the poor, victimized Ghermezians and their bribees were never to be bothered by prying reporters and the public in general, Mr. Weir enforced gag orders to threaten ex-Ghermezian employees and his own colleagues lest they reveal embarrassing facts about the brothers’ business tactics. He had other lawyers destroy documents potentially damaging to the boys and he knew where to look, privy to the relationships between Chief Justice Allan Wachowich, Justice Erik Lefsrud, and Justice John Agrios. He knew everything but what is more important, he knew how to keep a lid on the pot before it boiled over. Silence is golden. Just ask Elmer Leahy especially when the Ghermezians are covering the tab.

John Weir’s role is not often examined in the whole fiasco that was the refinancing of West Edmonton Mall. The Alberta Court of Queen’s Bench has its very own Sir John Falstaff and his selection as this month’s Tumbleweed was partly due to the fact that such an oversight should be corrected. Part of the reason for his choice as TWOTM was that as a lawyer, he loves to fly by the seat of his pants, relying less on preparation and detail and more on the abuse of witnesses, with liberal use of ridicule and sarcasm. His examinations are not so much examinations as browbeating sessions. All part of the charm that is John Weir I suppose and he deserves some of that charm in return. I hear that he was not happy about the description of Chief Justice Wachowich and wanted me cited for criminal contempt. Mr. Weir, bless him, wanted me sent to jail for the high crime of exposing the Chief Justice’s less than judicial activities. I don’t suppose being the honouree of this month’s Tumbleweed is going to improve his mood any, do you? One would dearly hope that he takes it in the spirit intended. Then again, perhaps he has.

But here is the clincher that ensured he would be named as Tumbleweed of the Month. He knew about the illicit behaviour of the politicians, the bankers, the lawyers, the judges, and the investigators and condoned it. Hell, he not only condoned it, he helped orchestrate  it! What does that say about his character, his values, and his sense of morality? Indeed, what would John’s mama say?

Hail to thee, John Weir, the latest in the TWOTM pantheon. He is a serious Las Vegas gambler so I know he will understand my closing thought especially in view of his recent remarks. Your aces have turned jokers, John, and I’ll call your bet and raise it!