So, you guys have finally found out about Larry’s Gulch. Everyone is getting in such a fuss that a senior editor of the Times & Transcript, Murray Guy, went up there with NB Liquor execs, the old premier and the Soggy Bottom Boys, but I don’t see the problem. I’ve been going there for years. Apparently the New Brunswick government really wants to grease the wheels of the features editor of the Aquinian. They’ve read the humour columns and told me they want me to further their agenda of increasing the number of masturbation jokes and Big Lebowski references young people read. Someone thinks I might be able to increase the number of stoners in this province, which is good for supressing voter turnout, increasing appetites, electing Justin Trudeau, or all of the above. I’ll abide, but I won’t let past agreements about what happens in Larry’s Gulch staying with Larry get in the way of telling the truth. I’ll tell you exactly what I saw up there at the Gulch; where the bodies are buried and the bait is cut. I’ll unwrap this New Brunswick enigma like a 3 o’clock drunk donair you get all over your pants and immediately regret buying.
First, Larry’s Gulch is pretty big. It’s basically everything the province has left of its public forest after what was given to the Irvings. Where else are you going to keep secondhand tabulation machines and Bricklins?
And it’s kind of creepy. The taxidermy there is so lifelike: deer, bears, coyotes, Shawn Graham, past Irving paper EIC’s – you feel like you’re being watched, I mean, by more than just CSIS.
Of course there’s expenses the public has to bear: you know how it works: Gallant insists on the walls being salmon even though Alward just panted them coral. I never got the fishing thing; “Who’d want to go fishing for flies?” To tell you the truth, for a lot of the younger MLAs, the term “fishing” is just in reference to the fact that they go there to show off their caucus, asking middle-aged divorced hockey moms to make out in the bathroom of Kedgwick’s Kountry Kitchen. Let me tell you, it loses its appeal after a few dozen times. Your name starts to get around too.
Still, anyone who’s anyone has been there: Amanda Lang, Jian Ghomeshi, J-Biebs, Mike Duffy, Rob Ford, SpongeBob SquarePants. Now I won’t lie, business is discussed. The first time I walked in there I saw Arthur Irving talking to Bieber about developing an edible-oil hair product, but …
Did I just say SpongeBob? Hmmm.
Bottom line is that Larry’s Gulch is a place where hick politicians can mix with corporate titans and Hollywood celebrities. More importantly, it’s our way of saying to our clients, “Hey, New Brunswick isn’t that bad. Look, this TV even has cable.”
Anyways, I hoped I answered all your questions.
What’s that you say? Did Jamie Irving know about the request to take Murray Guy off the list? Was sensitive business discussed while he was there? Is this criminal? Is the second list without Murray Guy on it a smoking gun or a red herring?
Heck if I know – that’s not the question real New Brunswickers want answered. The only real question enquiring minds want to know is “who’s Larry?”
It took me a while to figure it out, but here’s a clue: Larry’s Gulch is just down the ocean from Bikini Bottom.
That’s right, Larry the Lobster, the iron-pumping crustacean from Sponge Bob.
Say “thank you.”
Now go light up and vote for Justin Trudeau.
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