Hizzoner Role
by Jeff Kramer - Wednesday, November 20th, 2013
Reaching out to Toronto’s crackhead mayor could lead to a Ford in our future

Mayor Rob Ford
100 Queen St. W.
Toronto, ON M5H 2N2,
Canada

Dear Mayor Ford,

You don’t know me, but I feel like I have known you my whole life. All of us have done things we regret, but at least you’ve been brutally, painfully, disgustingly honest about it. Eventually. The whole international phenomenon that is you. . . it’s FRIKKIN’ AWESOME!

But this is more than just a fan letter. The main reason I am writing is to propose that we collaborate on a project. No, I’m not talking about meeting up in Niagara Falls and downing a 26er of CC and checkin’ out the talent, although that would be epic.

Dude, what do you think of Toronto and Syracuse being like, sister cities?

Obviously Syracuse isn’t a major playah’ like Toronto, but before you say “no,” hear me out. Being a big-city mayor trying to score crack in his own jurisdiction can’t be a walk in the park. Political rivals, the media, people in general can be so judgmental and negative. Imagine being able to drive four hours to a small, welcoming city in a whole different country and smoke crack–hitch up the reindeer, if you prefer that phrase–in a warm, nurturing environment.

Yes, we’re a a small city, but don’t be fooled: Salt potatoes aren’t the only thing they sell in bags around here. We’re blessed with a high-quality product line that will satisfy even the discriminating mayoral gangbanger. We have everything down here you could possibly want, including multiple all-you-can-eat buffets. I bet most would waive the cover charge for you.

I’ll be straight-up with you, Dawg: We need you. We’re a little scarce on celebrities here. Basically, we got me, Jimmy Boeheim, his wife and that whack-job who wrote The Wizard of Oz, but I think he might be dead or something. We need you more than you need us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make this worth your while. You want a seat in a Carrier Dome box and all the free food and booze that comes with it? Done. You need a ticket fixed, a felony assault charge downgraded to manslaughter or less? I know people.

Did I mention your name came up the other night at a very exclusive gathering of movers and shakers at a Syracuse country club? There would be a small rebellion if I mentioned the club by name, but if you want a prevue of the reception you can expect in The ‘Cuse, keep reading:

The meeting was actually the annual Cigar, Scotch and Steak Dinner, which would totally be your scene. In fact, if you wanted to tweak the menu to something more along the lines of the Cigar, Canadian Mist, Crack, Molsen, Smoked Meat, Poutine and Streetwalkers Dinner, I’m sure management would consider it. It might even boost membership. Anyway, at an appropriate moment I rose to offer words of support and encouragement for you, and to propose that we as a community pursue a sister city relationship with Toronto. Then I requested a voice vote. The response was unanimous and HIGHLY ENTHUSIASTIC. I wish you could have heard the love in the room. Everyone wants to party with you, Big Man.

Look, I realize that you are getting stripped of your mayoral powers as we speak, but that’s cool. You will still be an important figurehead in Toronto government, and you will be looking for something to do besides rehab. This is exactly the kind of thing figureheads do: They promote meaningless cultural exchanges.

I took the liberty of looking up Toronto’s sister cities on Wikipedia. Frankly, the list is underwhelming. Kiev. Warsaw. Milan. Chicago. A couple of Asian-sounding places. We’d be a nice addition. It’s not as if Syracuse and Toronto don’t already have stuff in common. We mismanaged your Triple-A baseball team for decades. We share a drone-filled Great Lake. Our favorite beer, Labatt’s, was founded in Ontario.

Syracuse and Toronto belong together like maple syrup and freshly killed boar, like Iceberg Vodka and Gatorade, like press conferences and profane references to having oral sex with your spouse. OK, maybe not that last one, but you get the idea.

You rock, Dude.

Let’s make this happen.

Out.

J-Dawg in the ’Cuse

 

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