If there are any ladies out there who are considering voting Mark Carney, check out what your sister Melanie in Saskatchewan has to say about him:
Dear Mark Carney,
You’ve really outdone yourself this time, haven’t you, you pompous, preening jackass?
The past few days have peeled back the glossy veneer you’ve spent years slathering on, and what’s underneath is a pathetic, petty little man who can’t handle a few sharp questions from women journalists without turning into a snarling toddler. You interrupt them like some overpaid mansplainer, cut them off with that smug, nasally whine of yours, and—best of all—accuse them of “ill will” when they dare to poke at your fragile, overinflated ego. Did you think nobody would notice? Or were you banking on your Liberal fan club to keep clapping like trained seals while you make an ass of yourself?
Let’s talk about that hypocrisy, Mark—because it’s so thick you could choke on it. You and your sanctimonious Liberal posse have been tripping over yourselves to smear Pierre Poilievre, clutching your pearls and crying about how he’s “disrespecting” journalists with his bluntness.
“Unacceptable!” all you liberals squealed, probably from the comfort of some cushy Ottawa office.
Yet here you are, doing worse—snapping at women like a cornered alley cat, your face twisted in that pinched, constipated scowl you call gravitas.
Where’s the outrage now, you two-faced fraud? Oh, right—your buddies are too busy polishing your turds to care. Canadians see it, though: you’re a hypocrite with a capital H, and it’s written all over your pinched little face.
What’s truly embarrassing is how you strut around like some economic messiah, dripping with that private-sector arrogance, only to crumple the second a reporter—especially a woman—asks you something tougher than “How great are you, Mark?”
You’re not the suave global titan you think you are; you’re a brittle, overrated blowhard who can’t even fake composure under pressure.
Those years at Goldman Sachs and the Bank of England must’ve taught you how to bully underlings, but up here, we’re not impressed by your tantrums. You’re not commanding a boardroom anymore, you self-important prat—this is the real world, and you’re flailing.
And let’s be honest: you and Trudeau are indistinguishable now, two sides of the same tarnished, counterfeit coin. He’s got the hair and the socks; you’ve got the suits and the jargon—but you’re both insufferable, elitist clowns who think Canadians are too dumb to see through your act. I bet you practice that smug smirk in the mirror, don’t you? Well, wipe it off, because the jig is up. You’re not fooling anyone with your “I’m here to save you” schtick—not when you treat journalists like dirt and expect applause for it.
Here’s the kicker, Mark: Canadians aren’t your personal cheer squad. We’re sick of overprivileged pricks like you stumbling into power, acting like we should be grateful for your condescending crumbs. You’re a walking embarrassment—a thin-skinned, hypocritical relic who’s too arrogant to see how badly he’s bombing. Keep snapping at those women journalists, though; it’s a great look for you—really shows off that “leadership” you keep yammering about.
Maybe stick to banking, where you can hide behind spreadsheets instead of humiliating yourself on the public stage. We’ve got enough assholes in Ottawa already.
Sincerely,
A Canadian Who Sees You for the Psycho Tyrant You Are.
Melanie in Saskatchewan
6:54 AM · Mar 18, 2025 (From Facebook)
(Drawing by Dan Williams)