And the Dear Leader did desire to go to a Leaf's game with the Dauphin and it was made so. The Dear One was carried on the wings of angels to Toronto and it was good. Then, did the pesky wretches of the fourth estate inquire of the cost of angels. The Dear Leader and his minions were sore vexed, as they had hounded the evil Liberals with similar questions, lo those eons ago, before the ascension of the Dear One. "The cost is what the Dear Leader has decreed it to be and nothing more. For we are accountable!" came the reply from the palace. "Remember, reality is what we say it is. Look not upon the royal ledgers, or you will be struck down for your faithlessness!" The wretches scurried away unsatisfied -- away to their dark dens, to dream their dark dreams. But the people did rejoice, for the Dear Leader was happy. And Stephen slept with the sleep of the just, and it was so good. Amen.
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