Again, apologies for the unscheduled hiatus. Despite Covid’s resurgence and the mess Our Dear Leader is making on his abusive GG’s lawn, things are getting busier up here in the nearly great white North. As Canadians cannot go abroad to spend their dollars, a miniature rediscovery of our own backyard is occurring: from those provinces declared safe, tourists are arriving in growing numbers. With our American cousins embargoed, this is a welcome influx.
My interactions with the guests have been overwhelmingly positive. Indeed, if there has been any friction at all, it has been with those members of the protected class who are still part of the tourism world. It took me a while to compute why I could barely understand the “Karen” at the train station or the green uniforms at the Fort despite the fact we’re all Anglophones. Then it finally dawned on me that from values to verbage, we could not exist in more different places.
I never thought this place would be an excursion into the nonsense of technocracy and what it does to my fellow humans. But if subsidies often waste people, state jobs are a gateway drug to inhumanity, both for heart and mind. Such security combined with rote learning creates an unholy mess of a person, with empathy disregarded while “tolerance” is painted on every lunchroom wall. Dystopian is an understatement - it’s a case of diabolically large irony.
The barking “Karen” behind the glass is a beautiful tableau. Saying goodbye to a guest I was nearly out the door before the rudest tone I’ve ever heard in customer service got thrown my way. In case we’ve all forgotten, this is a small place, and I’ve been here awhile; either we all have the Rona or I’m not a carrier. That not even a salutation was used before ordering me to leave is telling: turns out that losing any grasp on the most basic biology follows losing manners.
Things are no better at Parks, one of the few institutions we on the right have continued to defend over the years. It’s not the maintenance guys, as real work keeps them salty as well as hilarious. But the talking points handed to publicly subsidized guides are disconcerting. This land has been treatied for a century, yet the same inflexion when discussing unceded territory is used. I’m happy to acknowledge contributors; I’m not interested in taxpayer funded gaslighting.
The neo-marxist footnotes went on. Ravelins don’t divide classes of people, they divide vanguards into concentrated targets for grapeshot while also ensuring you can’t use a topmast to ram down the door. Add to this the idea that somehow, from warfare to trade, the French and the English were more brutal than any of us First Peoples, and I almost had an infarction.
This is beyond nonsense; it's a concentrated effort to shape a narrative towards a particular ideology.
The litany could go on, what with apex predators about yet somehow me needing a pass from Parks for carrying a gun whose cartridge dates back to my people roaming the plains. I am very close to asserting traditional rights just for a lark - it seems to be the only wrench that can be thrown into the machine of obtuse statism. Indeed, I find it all discouraging - we’re up in what ought to be the last bastion of Diefenbaker’s Canada. Instead, the apparatchiks are in the walls.
For the moment, I must stay silent and obey. To get on the wrong sides of officials in this country is a one way ticket to permanent marginalization - just ask a local excon or even Lord Conrad Black. I still hold out hope for this Dominion, but if this is how far down a technocratic as well as anti-empirical mentality has trickled, combined with a fair portion of brutality, what kind of corrective force will be required to bring us back to sanity, civility, and a flag that makes sense?
It took decades to build the Fort up here, due to climate and resources. But build it our ancestors did, with worse tools and harsher lives. I pray it's not too late for us to do the same.