This week, Calgary Mayor Jeromy Farkas posted a late-night video ramble that included the word “bulls–t” four times. He was blasting the province over the Stampede noise bylaw, but the mayor provoked a backlash.
One poster on X said: “You’re a mayor. An elected official. There’s no need to use so much profanity in an official statement. It’s embarrassing. Do better.” Another said: “Why not demonstrate some class and drop the word ‘bulls–t’? Are you not the mayor of Calgary? Bad look, someone needs to send you a bar of soap.”
Farkas's History with Profanity
In a recent public spat with colleague Rick Bell, Farkas weirdly began with “Jesus bicycle-riding Christ . . .” That one was promptly removed, if only for historical accuracy. Jesus Christ did not ride a bicycle. In a post after the BS eruption, Farkas began: “No swearing this time. Even though I may want to.” The mayor obviously got the message — stick to the point without the potty-talk.
Personally, I wince at the language and even hesitate to write the words. I come from a generation where a number of us (not all) never heard our parents swear. Those were the days when “damn” could get you suspended from school. How far we’ve come — or fallen.
Broader Context of Political Profanity
After years of saying BS — a perfectly useful substitute — major leaders are comfortable with the long form. Farkas has company. In February, after Premier Danielle Smith gave a televised speech to the province, NDP Deputy Leader Rakhi Pancholi said: “After watching the premier’s address last night, Alberta’s NDP have this to say: Cut the bulls–t.”
The use of words that shock, or at least startle, are meant to get attention. They often signal a lack of thinking. Sometimes, though, the outrage is genuine and the outburst spontaneous. Referring to gang members after a shooting in May, Ward 4 Coun. RJ Kelley said “get the f— out of our city.” The f-bomb ups the ante from bulls–t (which, after all, is a genuine Stampede product.)
Federal Examples and Historical Context
While addressing about 200 stakeholders in the agriculture industry in Calgary this spring, Kody Blois casually dropped an f-bomb to make a point, surprising some in the crowd. Blois is parliamentary secretary to Prime Minister Mark Carney. Anybody connected to Canadian politics knows the internal language would, as we used to say, put a drunken sailor to shame.
The air turned blue around the late Premier Ralph Klein and his key aide, Rod Love. As Calgary mayor, Klein told eastern “creeps and bums” to “get the hell out of town.” Drunk, he once shouted curses at a homeless shelter, a behaviour he deeply regretted. Still, such language never crept into official government statements. Sometimes, the politicians just get caught saying something they think is private.
