The meme on the Internet declared that on January 1 at 12:01 for the first time in the history of the universe, hindsight will be 20/20.

And another of those social media gems had the photos of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Ontario Premier Doug Ford alongside that of the Skipper and Gilligan from t.v.’s ‘Gilligan’s Island’ fame. It was uncanny and a bit unnerving as to how much Ford resembled the Skipper and with Gilligan’s cap placed on Justin Trudeau’s head the latter two were almost identical twins.

You non- Boomers out there won’t get this but I could picture Trudeau and Ford running around in circles sissy-slapping each other with the Skipper’s and Gilligan’s omnipresent caps, each convinced that the other was the bigger idiot in missing the latest obvious opportunity to get off the island.

Or to make some permanent progress in getting us out of the Covid-19 red zone. And now, unlike what I was watching in the mid-1960s I don’t even have Ginger and Mary Ann to divert my attention in the background.

Of course as a long-time lover of history and voyeur of politics I realize that it has always been tempting and easy to snicker from the sidelines, especially watching the easy targets of our elected representatives stumble around with feet of clay. One old story comes to mind of when Mitch Hepburn, the Premier of Ontario during much of the Depression, was on the campaign trail at a county fair in rural Ontario and couldn’t resist the chance to deliver a devastating body blow to the Conservatives when he saw a nearby manure wagon. He clambered aboard the shit spreader.

“I’ve never had the opportunity to speak from a Conservative platform before,” he announced to the crowd, unable to hide his delighted smirk at the timing and effectiveness of his own wit.

An old farmer at the back of the crowd wasn’t as impressed. “Let ‘er rip, Mitch,” he hollered for all to hear, “it’s never had a bigger load.”

I live in what’s called the Ottawa Centre electoral district and there are few county fairs and even fewer manure spreaders here on which the politicians can pontificate. I do feel that what we are missing is some good old-fashioned, down-to-earth rural and practical thinking. And really, I don’t even know who to believe or even what my own ideas even are anymore. People around here are very polite and I never know if what I say is looked on as the epitome of common-sense or the ultimate nonsense. For instance… the state of our national finances. If I was the guy doling out the money, wherever that may be, and Trudeau came up to me hat-in-hand wanting to borrow even more money, I’d be inclined to inquire, “But my man, what about that trillion you owe me?”

So I have a lot to mull over as I don’t attend any gatherings on New Year’s Eve. I have a hard time staying up until midnight these days anyway. And oh. I just read this morning the obituary of Mary Ann of the above-mentioned ‘Gilligan’s Island’, who just died at the age of 82 from, you guessed it, complications from Covid-19.

The year of Gilligan and the Skipper running the show comes to its inevitable and appropriate conclusion. Too bad the Professor can’t take over, but apparently he died years ago. But I’m an eternal optimist. Like all things, this year has passed.

And so a Happy New Year to everyone !