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EagleEye said:
It's been awfully quiet in Ford-land lately. I guess Doug's meeting didn't go quite as well as expected.
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I've come to believe that whenever things are quiet—especially now—it simply means that Doug is in Chicago.

Conversely, whenever he's in town, something loud and stupid always happens, because he honestly believes he has all the answers, even when no one has asked the question.

I think I said here that the sudden Ford eruption in March—the medical mouse media tour, the get well website launch—was all Doug's doing. Things had been quiet because Rob was dying, quietly and privately. Doug showed up, saw how bad things were, and decided he was going to fix everything . . . when all it did ultimately was draw negative attention to a treatment that doesn't always work and to Rob the Fighter Who Never Quits, but who lost this time.
 
EagleEye said:
It's been awfully quiet in Ford-land lately. I guess Doug's meeting didn't go quite as well as expected.
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I think it's time that we stop discussing Rob and Doug's immediate families in this thread - at least until there's something truly newsworthy to cover. There have been some wildly inappropriate posts involving underage kids, and many of the spousal comments are just not relevant to Toronto politics.

Doug and Mikey are always fair game, and the second some random Ford throws their hat into the political ring they are up for scrutiny, but the others just aren't public interest. It's been a fun ride but that part of the story is over.
 
PinkLucy said:
I agree re leaving the kids alone, but sadly I have the feeling that we're going to be hearing more from/about Renata. I hope I'm wrong.
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Agreed, using children as political tools and promoting adult agendas through them is just deplorable.
 
I don't think we've ever crossed the line where the kids were concerned. We've danced on the line, but when Rob used them so shamelessly, sometimes it was difficult to keep quiet.
 
PinkLucy said:
I agree re leaving the kids alone, but sadly I have the feeling that we're going to be hearing more from/about Renata. I hope I'm wrong.
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I don't know what Renata does, as such, but she seems to have really thrown herself into posting rants and flowers and sparkly kitten pictures on FB for the benefit of dozens of strangers around the globe. If she finds herself with the time and inclination to make herself heard in the public arena, it could get interesting.
 
I don't see those, but there's this.
 

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pattycakes said:
I don't think we've ever crossed the line where the kids were concerned. We've danced on the line, but when Rob used them so shamelessly, sometimes it was difficult to keep quiet.
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So true. Read these excerpts on Trouble at the Garrison Ball from Mayor Rob Ford: Uncontrollable at this link.

I tried again. “Rob, I don’t think you should come. You sound really rough. You’re obviously tired. And there’s no place here for kids, so they’ll be miserable.”

Out of nowhere, Ford exploded. I’d seen this movie before and knew I had to back him off the ledge quickly, if I could. “What’s wrong with my kids?” he screamed. “Don’t you ever say s–t about my kids. You’re way outta line!”

Those words, at least, I could understand. “Rob, your kids are beautiful,” I said, keeping my voice calm and friendly, pretending he wasn’t crazy-angry, so he could dial it down without having to make excuses, as if it hadn’t happened. “They’re great kids. I’ve never said anything bad about them. I’m just saying, this is a black-tie event, people have paid $150 a plate, it’s very crowded, very formal. There are no other kids here. I’ve got kids, too. They like to run around and have fun. There’s no place to do that here. They’ll be miserable. Why put them through that?”

“You leave my f–king kids out of this,” Ford growled, followed by a long, garbled sentence I couldn’t understand.

The last thing I needed was a drunk—or high—mayor crashing a high-society event.
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I made it outside the dining room and into the nearly empty foyer just as Ford burst through the doors. He looked like s–t on a stick. His face was scarlet and beaded with sweat. He was arguing with Nico and his arms were flailing around like a man trying to shoo flies away. The flies were his two children, each of them dressed to the nines, running circles around Rob’s tree-trunk legs.

To me, he appeared to be under the influence of something—alcohol for sure, and maybe something more. He smelled of too much aftershave. He was talking quickly and incoherently. I don’t know much about drugs or alcohol, but I’d never met a drunk who sped up. Alcohol is a depressant, not a stimulant, right?

Rob was dressed in his black formal suit with a long black tie tugged to one side. One of his shirttails was hanging out of the front of his pants and his shirt was soaked through with sweat. I walked up close to him, so I could speak quietly with him and also so my body would block his dishevelled appearance from the view of anyone passing by.

“Hey Rob, you don’t need to be here,” I tried again.

“F–k off. We’re here and I’m going to the dinner,” he insisted and tried to push me out of the way. “Dougie, Stephanie, let’s go,” he said to his kids, with more waving and shooing with his arms.
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After a few minutes of debate, he finally agreed we should check the kids’ coats, and he could use the washroom before going into the dinner. I led them around the corner away from the ballroom. Distance was my friend.

Once safely on the lower level, we checked the kids’ coats and Rob chatted up the servers in his usual retail-politics, aw-shucks style. He posed for pictures with the two women working the coat check. His chat with them became unusually familiar, almost flirtatious. He never became vulgar or suggestive, but it was unusual for him and I wasn’t comfortable with it. Still, I didn’t rush him along, because, the longer we were downstairs, the less time we would be upstairs in the full glare of the public eye.

Still, guests were coming and going from the washrooms. I told Ford discreetly that he needed to tuck his shirt in and he looked down. He proceeded to shove his errant shirttail down the front of his pants without turning around. The coat-check women chuckled.

Meanwhile, the kids were running rings around us, burning up energy. “I’m hungry!” Stephanie declared.

This allowed me an opening. I pointed out to Rob that there were no empty seats available for the kids, that the meal had already been served, and that it was food the kids wouldn’t like anyway. Why didn’t we send them to McDonald’s with Nico? It wasn’t far away.

Rob agreed. Nico reclaimed the kids’ coats and ushered them upstairs and out to the mayor’s car.
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“This isn’t your table,” I whispered into his ear. “Follow me, I’ll take you to your table.”

But Ford wasn’t moving. The room was loud and he was borderline incoherent, yet he was talking up a storm with the woman seated next to him and her date. Sitting next to him, I urged him to be quiet during the speech. The second it ended, I got Rob back on his feet. “Okay, let’s get out of here,” I said.

“Did we do the whole room?” he asked.

“Yes,” I lied. I guided him back to the doorway, and we made reasonably swift progress out of the building and over to the waiting Cadillac. The kids were in back, playing with Happy Meal toys. But Rob, now in a buoyant mood, didn’t want to leave right away. We stood outside his car while he rambled incoherently.
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