Caught in some eternal flex arm hang - The Chaff with Scott Stephenson

Everything Doug Ford said the other day about Mark Carney needing to “fight like hell” stirred up more than just political rhetoric; it lit up imaginations. In a world of trade wars, tariffs and diplomatic decorum, his words stood out: not softly worded, not vague, but muscular. They were meant to rally confidence, to signal grit. Given the recent tensions with President Donald Trump over U.S. tariffs on Canadian goods including steel, aluminum, automobiles, forestry, copper and more, Ford has repeatedly insisted that Canada must not roll over. He has urged Carney to stand firm, to match Trump’s unpredictability with resolve.

 

In light of all this, we at The Chaff wonder why not take part of this “fight like hell” speech literally, but stage something highly theatrical: a family-friendly showdown between Ford and Trump. Picture it, a backyard wrestling event held either at Queen’s Park in Toronto or, for flair, on the lawn of the White House. Two aging politicians with bodies less sculpted than once imagined, greased up and stepping into the ring in front of spectators eating hot 
dogs.

 

Ford would show up in trunks perhaps coloured like the Ontario flag, or blue and white, maybe with a Trillium emblem, muscle definition modest, midsection soft, arms carrying a firmness that comes more from stubbornness than gym membership. Trump would arrive in his own signature style, perhaps a golden or red pair of trunks, hair coiffed as always, chest bronzed by cheap spray tan. Both men would be coated in a harmless, slick oil - grapeseed, coconut or whatever’s safest for skin and environment.
They’d face off in a ring demarcated by simple ropes or even just garden hoses arranged in a square. The rules would be basic: no biting, no eye gouging, no dangerous throws; you win by holding the other down for a count, or by forcing shoulders to the mat in something like a pin or a playful submission.

 

The spectacle would be glorious. Ford lunges, a little wobbly, trying a takedown; Trump responds with a flourish of overconfidence, his foot slipping on grease, almost falling. Ford laughs, maybe misses his grip, slides off. The crowd gasps, then laughs. At some point they lock arms, torsos pressing together in an overly dramatic embrace, each trying to gain leverage. The sun might set behind them, the heat makes the grease glisten, straps and skin rub, sweaty breaths are visible.

 

Between rounds, they might sit on the edge of the ring, towels around waists, gulping Gatorade, trading jabs, not just physical but verbal. Ford: “You ever try standing inside Queen’s Park, trying to defend your shameful record?” Trump: “I know business. I know winning. But this, this is something more.” The tension would be playful but real, the soft parts of their bodies would jiggle, their resolve would show in their eyes, not just their muscles.

 

At some point Ford might attempt a flip, awkwardly. Trump might try a move he saw in a pro wrestling match once, miscalculate, and both end up tumbling to the ground, embracing more than fighting. The crowd oohs and ahhs, arousal mixed with applause.
In the end, no one is truly defeated. The match would likely result in a mutual raise of arms, each claiming victory in his own way, Ford for toughness, Trump for spectacle. Afterwards, Carney would come in, offering his hand to both, saying something like, “We need more of this grease in politics.”

 

This event would serve multiple purposes. It humanizes the rhetoric, shows that “fighting like hell” can be metaphorical and something people understand physically and visually. It underscores that even powerful people with political strangleholds worry about being perceived as weak, about being out wrestled, out dominated, out swaggered. It makes the political stakes visible: tariffs, trade, respect, sovereignty, all laid bare on a mat, under incandescent lights, with oil and the creaking of aged joints.
And yes, there are risks. Someone might pull a muscle, someone might get grease in their eye, someone might be embarrassed. But imagine the headlines: “Ford Pins Trump, Ontario Premier Wins by Submission.” Maybe the naysayers would note that while none of Canada’s economic problems were solved that day, something intangible shifted, perceptions of strength, solidarity, modern masculinity and humility.

 

So here’s the proposition. Ford publicly challenges Trump to this event. Queen’s Park offers a grand stage, the White House lawn offers symbolism. Each brings their cronies, their showmanship. The match is televised, proceeds perhaps go to charities, maybe workers harmed by tariffs, or hospitals, or schools. 

 

And if that’s what it takes to keep tariffs off our products, so be it. Let the free world be defended by the greased and the willing.