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. 

There is real cause for urgency. Shareholder value, the bedrock of these investments, is now a piggy bank being robbed by outside players who use ESG, DEI and other nefarious acronyms to intimidate said CEOs, boards of directors and investment experts into doing their bidding.

Sure, there are still many who see Justin as he wishes to be seen— and as they see themselves. Visionary. Brave. Bespoke. But there are increasing numbers who see the botched pancake flip, not the globalist leader, as closer to the truth. A stick figure surrounded by incompetents who can’t put one foot right. An actor in his own failed psychodrama.

Apparently the only ones who couldn’t see this outcome from shaking down Facebook and Meta were Trudeau and his faculty lounge of mediocrities like Rodriguez. They are left with an unworkable solution to a problem that the market should have been left to correct. Maybe Pierre Poilievre will follow through on his promise to end all this. Maybe not.

Mao, revered by the Left, used children to create the Great Leap Forward in China. Children indoctrinated in state schools via Mao’s Little Red Book turned in (or killed) recalcitrant parents and leaders in an effort to purify the state. When that was done, an estimated 30 million were dead and the society was destroyed.

The NHL and #SJW membership was always a heavy lift. For a league whose core is largely wealthy owners, middle-class conservative whites and Orthodox Eastern Europeans, the idea of donning the symbols of #LGBTQ or Climate Change or one of the myriad hip causes du jour was a stretch.

Is backing Alberta sovereignty in the oil patch a vote-loser for a federal conservative party still looking past “Hate Trudeau” as an election platform? You could see Poilievre rationalizing that he’ll get the seats in the West no matter what, so why not leave Trudeau to wrassle the Alberta bear alone? 

For those who get their Canadian history from the current CBC grievance culture, Bush Runner’s even-handed adventure story will shock with enough twists and turns to keep even the best screenwriter occupied.  It reinforces the impossibility of changing the past. But it also offers the promise of a better future if Canadians understand how far they can go if they embrace the true history of this wild land.

The Left still see themselves under threat of right-wing extremism. The spectre of The Handmaid’s Tale speaks to young women of extreme privilege. The trans movement makes them see themselves in the wrong body. They live in fear of cow farts and gas stoves.  The fading American dream is now just the hook to a popular Paul Simon song.