Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition

Everyone's talking about it, so I won't bother with a lengthy regurgitation.

The Tory margin was smaller than many expected, which can be directly attributed to ass-puckering fear at the ballot box. Harper will run a watertight government until he decides to pull the plug and orchestrate another election while the Liberals are still floundering in post-Martin disarray. He'll decimate them. I give it a year.

Paul Martin did a surprisingly honourable thing last night by announcing his resignation as Leader - I'm not sure that many of his supporters were expecting it, but it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do, as a matter of fact. It's going to be a torturous Leadership race for the Grits while Paul Martin sails into the sunset under a Liberian flag (merci, Dr. J!), cackling madly while wiping his arse with wads of hundred-dollar bills.

The Bloc went down. There is simply not enough of an appetite for another referendum. Duceppe took it well, delivering a fiery, near-militant speech the likes of which we haven't heard in quite some time. We haven't seen the last of him.

The NDP did well, as expected. They are still everyone's best friend. They'll whore themselves out to the government in exchange for writing the next Budget and all will be love, peace and s'mores. On a personal note, it was intensely gratifying to see Paul Dewar kick Richard Mahoney's ass in Ottawa Centre. Buh-bye, you big frigging loser.

I spent the evening with my political junky friends, hurling insults and slanderous jibes at the many TVs and laptops strewn around the well-appointed living room of a certain residence in the Lees area. There was wine. There was cheese. There was a taco platter, the contents of which I could have easily consumed by myself, had I been alone. There was also a rousing (if slightly slurred) rendition of 'Afternoon Delight' on the back patio for which I can not be held accountable. Thanks to the hosts for doing the voodoo that they do so well, as well as to all the sexy bitches who drank, swore and pretended that they didn't notice me eating all the Mexican dip.

Good times.