The Great Unraveling
Atlanta, GA
February 4, 2022
Time has no beginning and history has no bound
And to this verdant country they came from all around
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forest tall
Built the mines, the mills, and the factories for the good of us all.
– Gordon Lightfoot, “Canadian Railroad Trilogy”
Last week, an unusual blast of arctic air dropped our temperature to the teens…keeping us indoors, soothed by comforting drinks and warm fires.
Between sips of morning coffee, afternoon tea, and evening wine, we thought of the sturdy people in a country to our north, for whom a twenty degree day is a welcome winter respite.
We were reminded of our lifelong affinity for Canada, regardless the meteorological reasons so many of us could never live there. And I was heartened by recent actions of those who do. In their honor, we grab a Molson, turn north, and raise a glass.
I’ve always considered Canada a wonderful place: great cities, gorgeous country, peaceful people – perhaps too peaceful…or, rather, too patient. Patience may be a virtue. But this week, a cavalcade of Canucks stopped wasting their virtue on arrogant authoritarians who’ve spent two years abusing it.
Among countries of what was once the civilized West, those in the British Commonwealth applied Covid restrictions as ruthlessly oppressive and egregiously anti-scientific as any on earth.
Canada mimicked Australia and New Zealand by sealing its borders, confining its citizens, imposing medical mandates, and turning itself into a pharmaceutical gulag. The central State and its appended provinces unilaterally restricted travel, shuttered businesses, closed schools, compelled injections, and required quarantine. Few rights were left unmolested.
Naturally, none of the outrages did anything to control Covid. But they did help the government control the population, grease corporate palms, and consolidate power. So, from the perspective of those who implemented the policies, they can be said to have “worked.”
But a pot can stay on a stove only so long before it boils over. If you whip a dog long enough, even the most patient pup will eventually bite back. At some point…even for petty potentates…the law of diminishing returns asserts itself. Last week, above the 49th parallel, it finally did.
Like Napoleon at the Niemen, the tyrants didn’t know when to quit. Early last month, the Trudeau regime imposed yet another in a series of absurd Covid mandates…this one forcing truckers crossing the US border to be vaccinated, or to endure a two-week “quarantine” if they aren’t. This was the last straw. Late last week, the camel collapsed.
Indignant Canadians re-discovered their dignity, hopped into their trucks, and headed east. They’d had enough. For two years, they’d obeyed orders and did what they were told. They dutifully followed “the science” and complied with “the experts”. They wore useless masks, abided destructive lockdowns, indulged insipid restrictions, and endured repulsive medical mandates. At the command of effete elites, they made complete and utter fools of themselves.
These are the men who stock the shelves, keep the lights on, and put food on the table. They supply “the mines, the mills, and the factories, for the good of us all.“ Without them, many Canadians…and a few others…would starve or freeze to death. They don’t take kindly to being embarrassed, deprived of their livelihood, or pushed around by duplicitous politicians who once lauded them as heroes and now call them zeroes.
As the caravan rolled east, from Vancouver to Ottawa…over the mountains and across the plains…the convoy grew. Like prairie dogs from their holes…by the hundreds of thousands…weary Canadians popped from their homes.
They stood for hours in frigid air along frozen roads, offering sustenance and support to these determined truckers, to whom they attached themselves like random runners to Forest Gump. Momentum built, and carried the growing crowd across the country. When it arrived in Ottawa, crowds filled Parliament Hill and clogged capital streets.
But while the workers of the world united, socialist politicians were appalled. Hypocritical politicians who’d spent two years closing businesses spent several days denigrating the protesters, and bemoaning the obstruction of commerce. Yet rather than block an artery, these protests are causing blood to flow. The heart of Canada has once again begun to beat.
In a typical display of courage, the triple-vaxxed, multi-masked soybean of a Prime Minister caught a convenient case of “Covid”, and retreated underground. From his hole, he hurled a few insults…referring to the peaceful revolt as a “fringe minority” of (what else?) “racists”, “anti-semites”, “misogynists”, and “transphobics” (whatever that is).
It’s beyond me how anyone still takes these tired epithets seriously. And in this case, nobody did. Trudeau deleted one tweet containing these terms, and perhaps returned to his tailor to be fitted for a lamppost. Meanwhile, the revolt is spreading, with trucks rolling, horns honking, and crowds cheering in cities, towns, hamlets, and villages across Canada:
As Byron King wrote a few days ago, “this is truly a class war on display. The underlings versus the bosses. And yet it’s rather polite when you consider the stakes. It’s reminiscent of Gdańsk, Poland in 1981….But in this case, it’s just good ol’ Canadian truck drivers in the vanguard.”
It’s great to see, and restores hope for a country I’ve always loved. When I turned 15, my mother offered to take me wherever I’d like for a three day weekend. I chose Montréal, which remained among my favorite cities ever since.
A few months after I started working for Delta Air Lines, Rita and I used one of our first free flights was to visit Vancouver….another place I’d always adored. We spent a couple days there and a few in Whistler, where we considered buying a condo (if only we had!).
Over the years, we’ve driven to and thru Québec, sailed the St Lawrence, explored the fortress at Halifax, savored the scenery on Prince Edward Island, and paid repeat visits to Vancouver and Montréal. Like so much of the world we once knew, I feared Canada was lost.
Maybe not.
At long last, the Covid cult may be starting to crack. It’s about time. From the start, it has trafficked in arrogance, error, vilification, viciousness, hypocrisy, and cultural upheaval. But societal destruction can be sustained only so long, particularly when it becomes transparently pointless.
After its Prime Minister was again found flouting his own edicts, England reluctantly removed all restrictions. The Irish did likewise, and the Danes followed suit. Even the Australian prison colony has dropped many mask mandates and converted its sealed border into a slightly permeable sieve.
This reluctant relinquishment of usurped powers is a result of overdue popular resistance. In Canada, since the truckers took their stand, Québec has dropped its obscene tax on the unvaccinated and Saskatchewan is pledging to scrap vaccine passports by the end of this month (nice…but why the wait?).
These are encouraging signs and a good start. But they’re not enough.
Every “mitigation measure” needs to be immediately repealed. All of them. They need to stop. The insidious vaccine compulsion, moronic mask mandates, creepy “contact notification”, crazy Covid tests, ridiculous floor stickers, absurd “social distancing”, preposterous plexiglass…all of the lunacy must go. These schemes perpetuate fear and neurosis while doing very little to mitigate Covid.
Every remnant of “public health” policy inflicted on society the last two years needs to go the way of the Berlin Wall. And those who imposed them should go the way of Nuremberg.
Perhaps the authoritarian dystopia in which our “experts” have enmeshed us is finally beginning to unravel. Its too early to know. But we commend the Canadians for pulling the string.
I’ve been to Toronto several times, primarily for business, with the usual dashes of pleasure mixed in. While it is (or at least was) a great town, it’s probably my least favorite among Canadian cities. My first visit was in 1999, for Lasik surgery. Despite my wife’s misgivings at the minimal risk of potential blindness, I went thru with the procedure. I’m glad I did.
The next morning, my vision was perfect. Age and time have impaired it a bit. Up close, things can get blurry. I’m prone to overlooking minutiae and missing details. Several years ago, I succumbed to readers, which I’m wearing as I write.
But from a distance, my vision is still good. And the last couple weeks, I like what I’ve seen.
JD
