Guilbault & Co. have no practical knowledge of the auto industry other than stroking huge cheques for battery factories that are irrelevant before they’re built. His Euro buddies want this, and that’s enough for him.

Judging by the Liberals battle plan, the next showdown will be between Trudeau and Donald Trump/ Elon Musk. According to the federal Liberals and their water carriers in the Canadian media the biggest threat is not Proxy Pierre but the combined forces of populist America taking over Canada’s sacred democracy.

The complacency of the Clever Culture— in the person of Norman Lear protegé Rob Reiner—has been stultifying and self-reinforcing. Eventually most of those captured by it fell wordlessly into the coma of non-binary, cisgendered, trans-accepting, Hamas-has-a-point acceptance that Trump threatens. 

Let’s be honest, the official bilingual policy we’ve had was a dry run for the Carbon Tax. It has been a multi-billion dollar sinkhole foisted on the country by Justin Trudeau’s daddy. Like all top-down policies it is permanent and immutable. And useless at its stated goal. Quebec clearly doesn’t need it. The ROC resents it.

What is unsaid in all the doomsday downsizing (perhaps concocted aboard Jefferey Epstein’s Lolita Express) is the fact that, in the West at least, depopulation is already cutting through the population like a scythe. Who needs Gates and needles when we have collective self-elimination of the species?

The fact that Obama has a shred of credibility left after his eight years of turning America into a struggle session is that the special people have imprinted their most virtuous selves upon him. They bought the nonsense about halting waters and ending warmth. The wine moms and radical dads can no more point out his fatuousness and policy implosions than they can put on a new skin. 

Modern liberalism is like a colouring book. You have dots on the page representing support for single-payer healthcare and indigenous graves and trans rights. And there are dots for Trump hatred and the Truckers Convoy. It looks impressive so long as you’re never forced to connect the dots. 

While nothing assuages the brutal loss of life in Israel and Gaza we at least have a clearer picture of the people who now infest our communities with their anti-colonist clap-trap. People who danced in the streets of Arab cities after 9/11 are now dancing in the streets on Toronto, Montreal, Calgary and Edmonton. Our PM harvested this sociopathy from abroad, and now we reap the whirlwind at home. 

To understand Justin Trudeau one must see him as he sees himself. Like the benevolent character in Catcher In The Rye, he thinks he’s stopping innocent children toppling over a cliff. Unlike Holden Caulfield, however, he does want nasty people to go flying over that same cliff. In his world you must choose his side or the other.

Any thought that the Woke folk will take a lesson from this fiasco should save their breath. No one of import is going to be fired. No one holding cabinet office will be replaced. They cannot, because these people feel imbued with righteousness. Like Obama, they think the arc of history will bend to them because they’re good people.

The Right’s challenge is thinking their critics will respond to shame or being corrected. Can't be done. Won't be done. They're like Japanese soldiers fighting WW II on a deserted island 25 years after armistice. They'll die repeating the Donald Trump Bleach meme to themselves.

Buffett’s light-hearted lyrics about Cheeseburgers In Paradise aided the denialist wing of his audience in dodging the radical drift they’d allowed in society. It’s not his fault that they mistook Buffett’s good-times recordings and concerts for their reality. But, for all of Dowd’s tender ministrations, it is his legacy. 

This time seems different. Trudeau is like comedian Mike Myers, who, in just over a decade, went from being the world’s favourite funny man in Austin Powers (1997–2002), and Shrek (2001) to self parody as The Love Guru (2008). For all his attempts to shut down his critics PMJT has become the political equivalent of The Love Guru. Played out. Lame.

Yes, the IMAX-enhanced depictions of particle physics and atomic fission are as stunning as Spiderman or Batman (a previous subject for director Nolan). So is the magnetic soundtrack. But this is a three-hour movie to which you must give your attention the entire time. It’s for adults, and we can hope that more of this intelligent subject material is permitted.

If you cannot defend your banning Dundas Street or calling Canada genocidal you will eventually find yourself on the wrong side of history, mocked, disparaged and rightfully ignored by future generations.

The same clever people who are mesmerized by the immigration hustle are the same people who are fully bought into the healthcare collapse. But as anyone familiar with hypnosis knows, smart people make the easiest subjects to brainwash. 

No matter how you dress him, Trudeau has reached the Box Office Poison phase of his time in office. Morphing from RomCom dandy to late-stage heel may work in an acting career, but it’s not likely Justin will emulate Barbie’s comeback anytime soon. 

The back story of how the Left went rogue now makes watching the original film a hollow experience. Gone is the thrill of the chase, the delineation of good and evil. There is only the bitter irony of the pair as honest reporters before they became rich sell-outs.

Part of this mania is the slavish devotion to an “expert culture” of psychiatrists and psychoanalysts. They exploited two waves of Millenial kids raised by helicopters and friend-parents who are now obsessed with safetyism and willing to subordinate themselves to the elections of others. Not just willing, but excited to.