when Michel was around 8 years old, I remember him complaining to my mother that my older brother and I both had more friends than he did. My mother told him that, unlike us, he had the greatest friend of all: he had Fidel.
So writes Sacha of the dying communist dictator. Readers of the Toronto Star are treated to an exercise in a dying prose form, the over-the-top sycophantic tribute to a Stalinist thug. Castro, like Ceaucescu and Kim Il Sung before him, is a "superman", a "monumental intellect" and "an expert on everything."
Pith & Substance declares a winner. Sacha has wrested the title of most-embarrassing-Trudeau from his aging mother and the dim Justin.