The Great Replacement Is Real. The Nightmare Scenario Is Now

In the Great Game played by the U.N., the W.E.F., and its various grim satellites, the international policy shops, and the closeted meetings of the Round Table, Bilderberg and the Committee of 300, the Vril, the 33rd Degree idiots, the backrooms of the National Security State, the CIA, MI6 etc., Canada’s is generally seen as the most passive western population. All over the world, people joke about us, mock us, and for the past fifty years, we have deserved it all. We went to sleep, we let the buggers have it all and we deserve everything that is happening. Our passivity is real.  But it is skin deep – a recent and artificially imposed national character. The people I grew up among, all the families, the thousands among whom we lived, were anything but, though by the time I left university, the new Canada was forming, courtesy of the Marxist Trudeau and the civil service he bulked out.

The truckers invented the protests going on all over the world right now in every single country. That was us. Don’t count us out, but this is what they did , over fifty years, when we trusted them, how they bullied and destroyed a great people.

Hold The Line: My stor... Lich, Tamara Check Amazon for Pricing. I left after graduate school, and came back only for family reasons. I vainly dream sometimes of a cottage in the Lake District, a ranch in Wyoming, but stuck I am, hoping, begging, praying for salvation. I am seventh generation Canadian on some sides of the family – they were titanic people who dug the highest longest railroad pass in the world, Kicking Horse Pass, the American branch who dug the first deep cut on the Welland, or my grandmother’s first cousin, Klondike Joe Boyle, who became the richest man in the world, digging gold up in the Yukon with a bear cub for a pet with whom he napped. He competed with the Guggenheims who had a dredging operation the size of his. He financed an entire regiment in the Great War – uniform buttons of gold – romanced and won Marie, Queen of Rumania, Victoria’s granddaughter and built the railroad the Russian army needed to get to the front in WW1. These people I grew up among? They were tough, exigent of their children and they expected much of the future. The future they saw was gleaming, incandescent with light, scholarship, wealth and goodness. And adventure. My great-grandmother started the Vancouver General Hospital in a tent. All these women bureaucrats – our bureaucracy is deeply feminized and not a good way – can do is institute legal fentanyl for children and adults, killing thousands a year on the streets, ruined people defecating, robbing and knifing fathers in front of their children outside Starbucks. You can kill a baby here, at any time in your pregnancy. No questions. Never mind population collapse. We don’t do math. We are girlies.

For two hundred years, they built, and dug and pioneered in town after town, in the coldest most inhospitable environment imaginable. They built and built and built the infrastructure and institutions for the millions who came after, both of which are being dismantled by heathens and the hate-filled. They fought against murderous animals and murderous indigenous. We tamed them, brought them to heel, and in the case of indigenous, in real history, not the Marxist confection that assaults our intelligence and truth, tried to help. Jamie, whose family is as old as mine – together we hold the bloodlines of four indigenous tribes.

Mapping America: The I... Asbury, Neal Buy New $14.99 (as of 01:12 UTC - Details) I don’t write for Canadians. 90% of my readers are American or from the other 99 countries where Absurdistan is read. If I wrote what I thought about Canada, I’d be ruined by frivolous lawsuits or audited until I gave up. “The Overton Window,” says the head of the think tank where I am nominally a Senior Fellow, “has been narrowed radically since Trudeau”. There is so much you cannot say.

These people, these so-called Canadians, my contemporaries, the people among whom I properly belong, the people who run the country? I know them, I met them during grad school. These people are mewling ninnies, comfort-seeking, scared of their own shadows, determined above else to have someone else pay for their lives, content, apparently to do nothing but seek pleasure and complain, and trust the government to put them to sleep before the pain gets too much. They suffer from toxic compassion that kills or eats their young and kills their old. We have feminized the country, expressing every single negative trait usually assigned to women. We are weak, hysterical, nit-picking, scared, and vicious to anyone who challenges us. No one dares anything. I am entrepreneurial by nature, I started three companies before I turned 30 and one of them was in New York’s Soho and a resounding commercial success. Since I’ve been back, I’ve thought of five, but do I even map it out? No point, it would be smothered in its cradle by the safety police and the equity police and seedy little functionaries with clipboards.

We have killed the spirit of the country. And now we are killing ourselves.

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