In a concrete bunker hundreds of feet beneath the Rideau Canal, white-coated Parliamentary scientists toil through the night, carefully preserving the words of our leaders for all eternity.
Meanwhile, in my apartment in Montreal, I sometimes use the data I've gathered in creating this site to make silly, one-off toys. Here they are.
Poets, Shelley wrote, are the unacknowledged legislators of the world. Might legislators be the unacknowledged poets? I asked my computer to find out. Here are the occasions when sentences spoken in Parliament matched the 5/7/5 syllabic pattern of haiku.
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This one got kinda arty. Watch phrases from Parliament branch off in all directions. (This is an oldish project that's not very technically reliable. It may work flakily or not at all.)