on January 15, 2006
Lord save me from these types of memoirs. Cellucci has penned one of the most boring books ever written, even though it was meant to be some sort of apology for his "radically truthful" behaviour while playing golf. . . er, serving . . . in Canada for four years. I think there must be five different anecdotes about how PC's hockey player son-in-law went to toil for the Milano Vipers during the NHL lockout. More dumb pap about how "Cellooch" has on many occasions enjoyed his football-watching rivalry with former homeland security chief Tom Ridge (Ridge rooted for the Eagles, Cellooch for the Patriots . . . wow!).
There are countless more sections about how it's great to be a sports-loving guy diplomat and how having the sports bug comes in real handy when you need to make friends among the local guy politicians, guy press, and other ceremonial/usless twerps of officialdom (who are likely also guys). You may be shocked to learn that there are a number of sections on golf, my favourite being the one where Cellucci describes how golf is a metaphor for diplomacy. Look out for that shifty duffer John Manley, though!
Many more passages on what a great friend Bush the younger is, how his (PC's) politics mapped so perfectly onto W's. Much self-congratulatory drivel on what a forthright and prescient ambassador to Canada he was. The media misunderstood him, blah, blah, blah. He loves our country anyway . . . after all, his son-in-law is Canadian and played hockey in his beloved ancestral home of Milano. Therefore Canada is loved. Many references to how vast and beautiful the country is, in between recitations of the menus at a pile of different official functions. Good eating was had by all. Again, wow!
The conclusion, I suppose, is that it helps to be a football-loving, golf-playing fella with a good ole boy son-in-law who doesn't mind playing for the Milano Vipers if you want to help george the prezidunt to spread freedumb and libbertee to all the world (in particular, Iraq). Great, great memoir.