Dear Premier Kenney,

It has come to my attention that Postmedia is hoping to cash in your $30 million war room “to quickly and effectively rebut every lie told by the green left about our world-class energy industry.” Let me personally say, Old Man Mikula is open for business! It’s about time multinational oil companies joined forces with the government to stand up against the environmentalists, British Columbians, and overpaid youth workers that have turned Alberta into the ruinous shithole you so zealously described on the campaign trail. I would like to help.

My old-school colleagues here at the Journal, none of whom I have met for some reason, have withered brains and plump pensions. They are too proud to jettison their credibility to stay afloat on rising sea levels. Myself, on the other hand, would consider it an honour and privilege to be a patsy for your war room.

I can produce content suited to the information flow paradigm of modern social democracy. Misquotes, debunked science, and homophobic memes are all within my wheelhouse and will easily disseminate amongst the highly coveted “older friendless male with a cellphone” demographic. And before a bunch of crackers rush to the comments section, yes, yes, yes, obviously conservatives are a diverse rainbow of precious snowflakes. But you can’t deny, the generally grievous rage of lonely smartphone men is easily stoked, and boi is it ever spicy!

Shmanyways, we may not agree on all things, and you may be shocked to hear that, despite my “nom de plume” (“name of plum”) I am actually somewhat young. As a millennial, I will never own property because I have no work ethic, would step over my own mother for a triangle of avocado toast, and my retirement plan is to locate that kid with a map tattooed to her back so I can find my way to dry land after the ocean consumes the planet in 11 years. But what bounds us together is our shared will to do anything for money and power. (Whispered): ANYTHING.

I must say, Jason, I have long been impressed by your work: how you became a career politician after attending the University of San Fransisco just long enough to get on CNN to protest free speech on campus; your keen eye for booming snake oil markets; and your bold entrance into provincial politics after decades in Ottawa. J-Baby, you punched yourself straight into this province out of that big-ass egg in Vegreville as a rugged, pink-faced western man with a blue truck for a torso: every Albertan’s wet dream. All you need to do now is stay popular enough for the next four to eight years. Then the next wildfire-propelled updraft will fill your parachute with enough hot air to pluck you from this hinterland and place you, marigold-cheeked and Caeser-like, atop your true home: Parliament.

But until then, your war room is a firm, two-handed, well-lubed stroke of genius. Public dollars spent shilling for subsidized oil companies will preserve Alberta’s proud heritage as a single-resource economy — without which, bumper sticker sales will plummet and truck windows will languish unadorned in the smoky air. And so we dutifully suckle the malnourishing vinegar tang from your mealy tits. Like the wee Remus and Romulus are we, human babies prostrate before the doughy-faced jackal that arrived from the dull haze of the east for a free meal. Although, unlike the enterprising Romulus, our Rome is burning faster than it can be built.

You could use someone like me. I am a hard-working team player. I work well in groups as well as individually, and if I do have a fault it is that I am a perfectionist, haha! I have the literary prowess of Goebbels, the wit of Goebbels, and the austere Teutonic jawline of Goebbels. Yourself, Vivian Krause, and all of Alberta will find me an indispensable weapon in your war against the environment. I look forward to hearing from you.

Love,

Old Man Mikula

Tim Mikula is a comedian, writer and artist based out of Edmonton. He can be found weekly at Rapidfire Theatre and is uncle to the world but father of none.