All Five Levels of Our Canamerican Government Will Be Even More Fascistic
On this tumultuous Independence Day for the armed revolutionaries of Turtle Island, home is where the heart of fascism lies, so letʼs start with these municipal levels of dysfunction and devolve upward to the plutocratic monarch in the capstone of our hierarchical pyramid scheme. For those sane voters among us who canʼt wait for Captain Ghoulie the Dark Lord of white male heritage himself to retire from the Nelsonia Police State and announce that he wonʼt run in the upcoming fall election, is Pager the Enabler who kissed his bossesʼ greasy rings for four long years any better suited to become our next complicit Mayor?
Thereʼs some hope yet for nasty Nelsonia as the abusive Art Fartʼs offensively settler-oriented mural has been repainted by paint-slinging Sinixt artist Ric Gendron, but in classic CoN fashion, its vampiric culture vultures still had to pay obeisance to a well-known public harasser by emphasizing that it “appreciates (the Art Fartʼs) contributions as one of the founding large-scale artists in the community”. Even when it belatedly does the right thing for our bureaucratically “extinct” Indigenous peoples, nepotistic Nelsonia still has to kiss the arse of a civically endorsed pervert. And in regards to another violent accident which was entirely preventable on our local roads, how the hell are we still using antiquated motor vehicles in ʼ22 when we ought to have figured out something far safer and much cleaner by this late date? Any professional involved with the fossilized transportation industry should be embarrassed and ashamed whenever someone dies on their prehistoric highways.
On a somewhat brighter note, at least the neo-CoN finally had some official Indigenous representation at its sparsely attended Cana-duh Daze celly in Lakefront Park with a drum-circle featuring orange t-shirts, but itʼs always reassuring when the Autonomous Sinixt still hold out from participating in Queenyʼs perennially arrogant and self-aggrandizing militaristic pageantry designed to reinforce the overseas patriarchy which actively oppresses all the First Nations on this stolen land. Of course, there was no orange seen anywhere on the spindly frame of white male supremacist Count Ghoulie when he delivered his yearly parochial speech to the cake-hungry masses (let them eat cake!) beside our MIA MLA who wore orange, but was that just because itʼs the colour of her cultish provincial anti-party? In the hypocritical spirit of paying tribute to the Indigenous culturally while choosing to ignore their rights when making land-based decisions, the inconsiderate colonizers are burning the choked trees south of privileged Nelsonia for wildfire protection and habitat regeneration, but is there ever any mention of much-needed First Nations consultation or collaboration?
If youʼve been paying attention long enough to the sneaky deceptiveness of the Ghoulie Gangʼs superficial meaningless pandering to interests other than their own, you already know the answer to the above question. If thereʼs any doubt left about the white-bred allegiances of the Ghoulish Leprechaun and his personal manservant Renwick, they are so obviously desperate to ram a sports-themed mural onto the “biggest visible canvas left” in town, itʼs driving them nuts not to be able to broadcast their paternalistic love of their own lily-white Christo-fascist athletic accomplishments to the traveling masses.
Donʼt believe the Golden Heron? Hereʼs Old Man Ghouls in his own words, displaying a despotʼs interpretation of how to dictate your own anti-choice mono-racial beliefs onto a supplicant community of chauvinistic accomplices all too eager to worship themselves: “An artist could look at that building and, if we were to supply them with the history of that building, how it came about, what it was used for over time, I am sure they would be able to come up with something that would reflect the building, as a whole”. Notice the Ghoulsterʼs covetous use of the words “we… supply… them” and “history”, plus “I am sure”. Spoken like the true-blue author of the creepy CoNʼs White Master Heritage Plan, no? When denied their choice sporty artwork to hang up on his personalized bedroom wall, minion Renwick unmasked his acolyte soullessness and wannabe kingpin vibes when he fatuously decreed, “so what we have to do is find an artist who likes to do sports-themed murals”. If you build it in the name of macho sports, He will come.
With the impending retreat of Hustler Horgsy from the heat-dome spotlight inside the Premierʼs office of Brutish Colonia due to his health concerns which reportedly instigated his illegal snap-election call in the secretive first place, the messianic table has been set for the return of the fanatical Falconer to the sordid halls of provincial power. Some sacred-cow con artist like the homegrown Kooky Mountain Cultist will heed the call of corporate Cascadiaʼs summons and run for the BC Illiberals, meaning weʼll have a conservative simpleton MLA who can golf and drink with MP Brutus Morrison while they plot how to prop up their Greater Albertamerican PM on Parliament Funkadelic Hill. Wonʼt Ghoulieville be ecstatic to be ruled by this unholy trinity of antidemocratic cronies?
Any native Canamerican knows that Maple Leaf Incorporated is merely a shell company for Stars and Stripes Disunited, so any political discussion of our kleptocratic masters must acknowledge the supremacy of the ungodly greenback in our sadistic colony. Far too many so-called “good guys” in these fraternal backwoods are stumping for President Drumpf and/or DeSatan (take your pick!), in cahoots with PM Pepe LePue, MP Cranbrook Cop & Lord Ghoulie; and then thereʼs always daft King Chuck and his villainous Queen Consort on the gilded edge of the imperial throne, with sycophantic Prince Willy and shrewish Queen Kate of Kate Hall lurking in the wings with their whitewashed smiles. If you want to question whether the oblivious prickly shrubs around these neglected parts are truly in love with the thin blue wave of nü-fascism, these boonie-bike bros are so deep in the masturbatory pocket of neo-con savagery despite swearing to never turn right-wing that they likely donʼt even know who anti-choice DeSatan is while betraying their unleashed enthusiasm for abusive Mad King Donny. Worse, weʼre all in a feudal social experiment wherein the previous redneck mainstream culture of casual racism and alcoholic bigotry has been dispatched to the radical fringes of our divided society by the pious majority of supposedly democratic liberals who preach censorship, discrimination & disdain of anyone who doesnʼt bow down to the Kokanee Groperʼs firsthand diktats.
Cheney Jr. versus Drumpf II is a heavyweight bout exposing the prejudiced frailties and contradictory flaws inherent in the Canamerican political system of quasi-anarchy that weʼre currently enduring. No matter how much you highlight the classist exclusionary bugs in the Yankee Doodle Dandyʼs jacked war-zone of systemic lawlessness, there are still ignoramuses in Canuckistan who yearn for our own federal playground authoritarians to bully all the non-white students on our schoolyards, which diabolically act as sexual breeding grounds for the psychotic men insanely in charge of everyone else who doesnʼt look and behave exactly as they command. Boris the Bozo is top of the pops for Union Jack misogyny, and the rest of our nationalistic jackboots who strive for old-fashioned white power at all costs fall in line like lemmings.
Sure, you can congratulate the “federal government (which) says it has signed a $20-billion final settlement agreement to compensate First Nations children and families harmed by chronic underfunding of child welfare (as) half of an overall $40-billion deal that aims to reform the child-welfare system, including five-year funding for the First Nations Child and Family Services program”, but it could be said that this monetary admission of collective guilt is an enforced acknowledgement of their centuries-long suppression of our Indigenous populace, and that these necessary overdue reparations will come to a screeching halt under a totalitarian Tory dictatorship lusting to jerk away a womanʼs choice while giving a gun the power to take life.
The corrupted fascistic essence of Canamerican expansionism can be summed up in a nutshell by the Hollyweird movie “Canadian Pacific” starring a closeted gay Reaganite who fought off the “Injuns” in order to protect the white woman in peril at his manly Eurocentric side. In this cheap propaganda flick for Van Horny and his gluttonous train-car of profiteering resource exploiters, we see all too well how the USA Army-led unCanadian nonPacific railroad monstrosity has always been the bastard founder of this dystopia backed by the paramilitary Mounties to fend off the imperial Yankees at the expense of the besieged inhabitants of our ravished landscape since time immemorial who just want to coexist in peace wherever possible. So it’s no wonder we’ve been sold out as Corporal Creel’s cross-border servile subjects by our ruinous overlords, now that weʼve virtually become the 51st state as our addicted user majorityʼs incessant unsocial clicks for the destructive Zuck Klub and his silicon Googly-Eyes feed the belly of the insatiable beast which owns the hands that feed it, while most of the entitled “legacy families” who aggressively settled here perpetuate the original sins of our patronizing forefathers against their paradisiacal home and native land.
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