Losers need heroes. Toronto Mayor Rob Ford is, himself, no loser. He was born the scion of a label empire and slid into political life on greased skids. He never wanted for anything, or had to work particularly hard to get where he is. But oh what he has accomplished with the gift of noble birth!
From the start, the story that Rob Ford has become threatened to get very dark, very fast. (And it will get dark, when Ford drinks and drugs himself into the hospital or worse, or when he attacks his wife again, or when his young children begin to show signs of the damage their father has done to them.) But for more than six months, Ford has managed to wrestle his tale of drugs, rock-bottom humiliation, and public urination out of Permanent Midnight territory and into the realm of some glorious madcap comedy—Cheech and Chong meets The Candidate. He's Prince Hal and Falstaff rolled into one, and at each step of his highwire act—from his opening gambit of transparent word games to bragging about how much pussy he eats—he's chosen farce over tragedy.