The Spawn of Canada’s Satan Does the Expected: Justin Trudeau into the Breach–For Father, NOT Country
In a debate against a marijuana activist some years ago–my opponent, who’d been fed a long worn out line by a former friend of mine, exclaimed–and after being thoroughly pummeled, “Your own father hates you! Because you were never good enough to be like him!”
Yes, quite. Hate is a rather strong term to describe my father’s disappointment that I didn’t practice law, nor become a successful developer–in his class.
Or ass kiss him when he’s wrong.
As if my chances or opportunities were ever even remotely similar to his in the 50s. Or that I should show deference when someone, anyone, is in error.
Nonetheless, this poor marijuana-promoting chap I was debating–who exhibited all the characteristics of someone who readily practiced what he preached, heard of my long-past battles with Dad, and, of course, faced with having been schooled on what legalization really represented–a sure destruction of millions of lives, reduced himself to petty insults–and without a hint of substance to back them.
But his point was clear: What did your dad think of you? Not much. Na, na, na, na, na–na…
I thought of this last night as I was listening to a friend from Sherbrooke, tell me how transformational Justin Trudeau would be as Prime Minister of Canada.
Far from having the late Pierre-an evil man if there ever was one, be disappointed in young Justin, Trudeau was a very good father. Sometimes distant–considering his stature and repsonsibilities, this is unsurprising, but he was someone that still took the time to school his beloved sons in everything from the basics of (social welfare) economics to God. The latter being a more matter-of-fact rendition than an Evangelical screed.
But the conversation with my very Liberal friend from Sherbrooke was abundantly facile: Trudeau will sweep in and woe betide Stephen Harper.
Um, not quite. Hang on there, sweetheart.
Although she’s a lovely gal, who reads this blog–and often suffers through my recitation of Liberal largesse (I know, that’s redundant) and failure (I know, I did it again), maths and strategy aren’t her strong suits.
Specifically, and, I’m hardly going out on a limb, if Justin Trudeau is elected leader of the Liberal Party of Canada, Stephen Harper will remain Prime Minister for as long as Maxime Bernier and Peter MacKay will tolerate such leadership hegemony. In other words, you can forget Prime Minister Trudeau. There will only be one in the books, and that’ll be Senior. British Columbia and Ontario alone, will preclude this from happening. And the rest of the electoral maths doesn’t play favourably to Trudeau either.
Having met young Justin, only once–and passingly, I can tell you from listening to him that he’s an overbearing, overrated, over-the-top public figure, who is a mile wide, but an inch deep.
He’s got the opposite problem from me: He just can’t admit–or even accept, that he’s not his father.
I never wanted to be a bloody lawyer, or spend the rest of my life among among concrete pillars and stacks of plywood.
Trudeau, followed by all the Liberal establishment, who still revel (idiots!) in the halcyon days of Trudeaumania, has never wanted anything more than becoming his old man–and that’s just not possible.
Or is it? For if it is, it’s likely the only way for him to win the Liberal throngs (the last three dozen of them) and keep them. He’ll have to espouse a deep social liberalism that exceeds Canadians’ threshold for handouts–just to wipe out the NDP, and embrace many principles of command economics that go with them.
It’s his father’s legacy of suffering and failure. And it’ll split the vote with the NDP more than ever. You might even see an expanded Conservative majority to rival in size, that of Mulroney in ’88.
Justin Trudeau isn’t intelligent enough to understand that he can’t be his father–that alone should disqualify him for the leadership of his party. Pierre, ever the intellectual–and truly brilliant, could triangulate a policy in his sleep; he was so far beyond the absolute best of what his son Justin could possibly offer, that it defies logic and reason to accept this morning’s nonsense from the Liberal-loving press across the country, (yes, I read Barbara Yaffe for the first time in almost a year, but well-before breakfast or any kind of digestion was necessary).
All on the day Trudeau will announce how he will ascend to his father’s former throne.
I accept that my father is a great man–and bigger success than I’ll ever be. I’ll never be like him, that much is clear, and I’m very fine with that–because I don’t need to be. I believe I do well enough on my own and enjoy being a different man.
And free. Free, for Christ’s sake, free!
Heaven forbid that nepotism and birthright be cause for success in anything. Those greediest of bonds are what drove the Kennedys into rampant defeat and eventual catastrophe.
Straight into the jaws of oblivion. Where is their influence now? Hm?
Too bad young Trudeau doesn’t see it my way. He’d break from the shackles placed on him by his meddlesome mother and the Eastern establishment Liberal whorehouse that STILL hasn’t washed free from their sheets, the remains of screwing Canadians for decades.
Natural governing party, my derriere.
If anything, they want to come back for more.
That’s why they’re putting up and encouraging young Trudeau, who is just fool enough to believe the myth.
Two parting thoughts on this: Is it just me or has Justin inherited his mother’s looks, but her brains, too?
And what does it say about the Liberal Party of Canada, that all it has to offer up for leadership “stars” are the ilk of Justin Trudeau and Joyce Murray.
A charter member of ‘The Lucky Sperm Club’ and Stephane Dion in drag.
To be brutally frank, if I were Stephen Harper, I’d be a very happy man today.