During the Canadian Federal election of 2015 I remember passing through an intersection in my car. As I glided past the stop sign I noticed that somebody had added a crooked sticker beneath the word ‘stop’. All the sticker said, in bold letters, was a single name: Harper. This mantra, “STOP HARPER” (and thru proxy his Conservatives), was the refrain that defined the election that year. I recall thinking later that the word was literally on the street, that it seemed inevitable that the Conservatives would lose, and lose big.

It therefore came as no surprise to me when the Liberals, under the leadership of Justin Trudeau, claimed 39.5% of the vote and “picked up 148 seats, easily the biggest numerical increase for a Canadian party since Confederation”. [1] Harper was effectively “STOPPED”, and his period in office, dating back to 2006, was suddenly finished. Youthful Trudeau had won the 42nd Canadian Federal Election and went on to become the new Prime Minister of Canada.

Many attempted to explain the upset, and every news agency postulated what had gone wrong for Harper. Some said it was because Harper was seen to be ‘against democracy’, with a steady stream of scandals (such as the ‘Robocalls’ incident), and actions that put into question their parties’ integrity.

Others said it was Harper’s disdain for the media, citing the fact that he seldom granted interviews or exposed himself to situations likely to grant news agencies the upper hand or make him look foolish. Perhaps he was right to avoid random, unscripted or ‘open’ question periods. I personally will always remember Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s early appearances on ‘This Hour Has 22 Minutes’, especially those featuring Marg Delahunty. Boy, did he ever look like a stuffed shirt most of the time. Harper thereby began giving interviews “on the condition that the questions were restricted to one topic, such as the historic importance of D-Day. This meant that he could get valuable media exposure without having to handle queries on such embarrassing topics as the Senate expenses scandal.” [2]

But I believe that the real reason was much simpler than those suggested by the pundits and the political theorists. The real reason (coupled with the fact that Harper came across as a bored, dispassionate and uncomfortable most of the time), was that the opposition brought in a celebrity just in time for the election. And, ignoring the fact that it was prostitution politics at its worst, they chose someone who behaved like a cosmopolitan metrosexual. Female voters breathed a collective sigh. Young voters finally had someone to whom they could relate.

The name Trudeau had immediate associations for most people, conjuring images of the plaid suit wearing, sharp-tongued, exceptionally intelligent Bolshevik, Pierre Trudeau. Regardless of the fact that Pierre had arguably done astonishingly bad things to Canada and her economy while acting as Prime Minister, the name had a flashy connotation and a certain celebrity mystique attached to it. Trudeau, most agree, was a shaker and a mover, a radical who got things done, for better or for worse.

And Justin Trudeau, with his coiffed hair and devilish good looks, played the role of a celebrity very nicely. Indeed, one could say that young Trudeau, “who taught math, French, humanities and (most importantly) drama between 1999 and 2001 at Vancouver’s West Point Grey Private School” [3] was the perfect choice.


I recall seeing a Justin Trudeau commercial during the election campaign entitled “Real Change Now”. It featured him speaking before thousands of people at Liberal rally, delivering a movingly passionate speech about uniting Canada and replacing fear (of others) with hope. This speech, I recall, more than anything else, made it clear to me that Justin Trudeau was destined to win. Despite having no political experience, something often criticized when describing Trump, he played the part with perfect dexterity and deftness. Click To Watch People swooned when he was elected, like teenage girls at a boy band concert.

And so, we got what we deserved: a performer, not a leader, an actor, not a Prime Minister. Since this is what so many people voted for, Canadians (mostly young and female) were quite happy to indulge in his flamboyance and pretend that his antics were like episodic installments of a favourite sitcom. The selfies, his soft and cozy socialism and over-the-top feminism, the showboating, the hugs for newly immigrated Syrians, the goofy print socks… all of it was not just tolerated, but applauded. We as a nation could smile and chuckle ad infinitum as he wandered into people’s campgrounds shirtless [4] for photo ops with wedding parties or paraded with the homosexuals wearing a pink shirt and temporary rainbow maple leaf tattoo on his face. [5]

As with actors, Canadians also seemed infinitely willing to tolerate and forget his endless stockpile of stupid gaffes. Comments about the “budget balancing itself” [6], statements about how ISIS fighters can be “an extraordinarily powerful voice” in Canada [7], the incident in which he forgot that Alberta was a province during a Canada 150 speech [8]. There was the time he said that he wanted Canadians to “Stay angry”, that “all must pay” for Omar Khadr being awarded $10.5 million in reparations for his terrible Guantanamo torment. [9]. And let’s not forget his pledge to “Grow the economy from the heart outwards”. [10] As a writer for RWN, I winced at each increasingly dumb exclamation. I have been constantly revolted by just how much nonsense the Canadian public can tolerate while still celebrating Trudeau.

Yet everyone hates a bad actor, and that’s just what Justin has become.  Trudeau’s most recent word usage gaffe has painfully illustrated to even the most ardent Trudeau enthusiast that the man is a politically correct turd. He hit bottom for many when he corrected a woman’s usage of the word ‘mankind’ during a Q & A session saying, “we like to say peoplekind, not necessarily mankind” in early February. [11] Although he later declared that this was spoken in jest, many people took the incident at face value for what it was, namely, a government representative mandating which politically correct pronouns a citizen should use in free speech. Some felt that this was creating a dangerous precedent, and began to glimpse the kind of statist ideals Trudeau was promoting.

And then came the infamous week-long trip to India, what came to be labelled as a ‘total disaster’, and a ‘cosplay-riddled embarrassment’ from February 17th – 23rd. An actor’s choices of attire can be oh-so important to his performance. Trudeau, our ever-chic Prime Minister and his family, donned traditional Indian costumes for the journey (as he had similarly many times in the past), despite the fact that nobody in India wears such gaudy attire anymore. Many regarded our fearless leader’s clothing choices as cultural appropriation, a cheap gimmick to help sway the Canadian Indian voter base, or, as playing dress-up on yet another tax paid vacation. Strutting and fretting (and sometimes even dancing) his time upon the stage, our Prime Minister’s actions were in fact, more farcical theatrics than leadership once more.

The Prime Minister made every blunder possible during this dubiously work-related family vacation, the worst involving Jaspal Atwal, “a Canadian national of Indian heritage, who in 1987 was sentenced to 20 years in a Canadian court for his part in the attempted murder of a visiting Indian state minister.” [12] An invitation was extended to the man, but then later withdrawn when the “error” came to light. To make matters worse, outlets then turned up photographs featuring Atwal standing with Sophie Trudeau, Justin’s wife, at a reception held in Mumbai. Our Prime Minister and his family, it seems, likes to keep with terrorists, dictators, and communist leaders: from Omar Khadr to Fidel Castro to Xi Jinping.

It’s time to face facts and admit that we as a Nation have elected a clown to lead us, a vacuous sock puppet controlled by socialist bureaucrat handlers. We have made a grave mistake, far graver than the American’s perceived ‘struggle’ with Donald Trump (as propagated and endorsed by CNN.) Let us pray that Canada’s love affair with Justin Trudeau is wearing off and that during the next election, in 2019, we as a nation can avoid the temptation to vote for a talking hairdo instead of a leader. I dearly hope to see ‘STOP TRUDEAU’ street signs appear (complete with a caricature of Trudeau’s face, looking suitably asinine beneath the word STOP.) For God’s sake Canada, we may not get a second chance to salvage our country’s pride, her economy and what is left of her dwindling sovereign inhabitants.

Do something.





Walk along any street in practically any city in Mexico pushing a baby carriage and you will meet with an unexpected reception (i.e., not the kind involving a knife or a wallet being handed over). You will be greeted by kind smiles from women, knowing, cheerful nods from men, and, most unexpectedly of all, playful words (goo goo!) from youths directed tenderly towards the baby. Older ladies, called ancianas, rush over in multitudes, clasping their hands over their hearts, pinching cheeks, kissing foreheads and often asking to hold the baby. They genuinely crave physical contact with babies, exalting over the child incessantly and repeating the word ‘hermosa’, translating roughly to ‘beautiful’, with heartfelt joy and teary-eyed jubilance. Everywhere you go people seem to love babies and give deference and respect to parents.

For example, Mexican people seem to give right of way to a person pushing a stroller, be it in a strip mall or in a street; pedestrians step aside, rush to open obstructing doors if needed, and will many times let a parent advance to the head of a line up. Crossing a busy street with a baby carriage will literally cause waves in traffic, as drivers will dangerously hit the full stop, without hesitation, to let a stroller pass. Generally, Mexican people seem to have an innate understanding of children, their importance and their necessity.

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I chanced recently to converse with a colleague at my work, a level-headed woman we’ll call Laverne, for this sake of this article. Laverne is a well-spoken and coolly self-confident woman, well-versed in feminist truisms and verbally adept in conveying commonplace liberal sensibilities. Laverne doesn’t like me very much. She wears an expression of disinterest and slightly ironic bemusement most of the time. Her eyes convey a sense of sadness and her mouth a slight bitterness, as though she swallowed a bug and is trying hard to conceal it. She comes across as intelligent, but not quite clever enough to know better than to talk to me about altruism and weakness as a “natural human state”.

One day in passing she tells me she is preparing a presentation on P.T.S.D., or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, for the general edification of the office, her esteemed colleagues. She explains to me that this acronym, P.T.S.D., affects many people today, the vast majority of whom don’t even know they’re stricken by it and who, in actuality, are very mentally ill. I shudder inwardly. Why is it that people today are so naturally predisposed to believing that others and most especially themselves are mentally ill?

She goes on to say that P.T.S.D. effects a great many people, but that the afflicted hide it away for fears of appearing weak, incapable or incompetent. These hapless victims worry that they will be misunderstood, labelled and eventually rejected by others. And so they bury the P.T.S.D. deep within and let it fester, this darkness inside them. And it thereby begins to consume them, like a corrosive volatile chemical dumped on the floor of a children’s nursery.

Eventually, over time, they become depressed, increasingly unstable, and incapable of performing their jobs. They begin to fall apart and start experiencing crying jags, gradually becoming withdrawn from others. And then the thoughts of suicide descend, like an evil cloud of smog from a disease factory; thoughts of self-loathing lead to ideations of self-harm. They hit the bottle and then crack pipe and end up on A.I.S.H. Eventually they turn to the blade and get down to business. Fade to black… curtains fall.



While she is talking, it occurs to me that she sounds a great deal like a self-help book or one of the many talk show ‘doctors’ on television. Her demeanor is one of pleading, while simultaneously one of pedantic pride. She seems genuinely anxious for the multitudes of poor, tormented victims, somewhere, seemingly all around us. Lines of concern deepen in her forehead and her eyes widen. She assumes a tone of resigned melancholy, a sort of noble resignation to the ‘facts’. Her mission is clear: she needs to raise awareness of this silent killer, to help others come to terms with and struggle against this insidious disorder, the dreaded P.T.S.D. I get a lump in my throat. I suppress the urge to slap her with a black glove, like Patton in the infirmary; she’s stinking up our workplace, I think to myself. [1]

But what I do instead is perhaps worse.

I explain to her that what she is saying is interesting, not because I agree, but because she’s mostly wrong. I tell her that she has been lied to by the quacks, the social scientists and the Alfred Kinsey’s of the world… sold fake social science in place of reason. I watch as her face falls, and her eyes harden. I tell her that a thousand generations of humanity have suffered, lived lives steeped in pain, hardship and horror and have thereby been the better for it. I tell her that people need mental anguish, traumatic events and discontent, that these terrible experiences temper the soul like steel.

People need more exposure to unpleasantness – much more—and to be made to suffer if their soft lives or social assistance have somehow exempted them from it. The ability to manage these hardships is what consistently has made humanity stronger throughout time, tougher and abler to cope as a result. It has facilitated survival spanning back through time ad-infinitum. The human race has been forged by its stoics, its warriors… and by the many who have suffered hardship.

Although she has clearly shut down by this point, I press on with my retort. I explain that society in general today is growing steadily weaker or devolving, that the welfare state is the real sickness, helping people avoid the consequences of their poor choices and the hardship and adversity they have rightfully earned. P.T.S.D. is, in reality, a form of mental scarring I say, a form of neural toughening. I say that real P.T.S.D. is probably almost non-existent for most people living in the first world nowadays, that unless a person served as a trench soldier in WWI, what most people today feel is more likely equivalent to mental indigestion than P.T.S.D.

People must come to terms with and embrace what little trauma they face in their lives and thereby build mental fortitude. For as with any wound, the eventual result is reparation, scarring and then callousing. It’s what makes us capable of unflinchingly facing the next traumatic situation in time. And not to mention, I add, that without adversity and traumatic events people might fail to recognize or appreciate the joy and prosperity in their lives when it occurs. Those who have never truly suffered mental anguish are incapable of truly identifying real happiness in their day to day existence.

I sit back with my hands interlaced behind my head. My colleague seems to have stopped talking. She and many others are standing looking at me with horrified expressions. She turns to walk away. Her face looks slightly pinched, her eyes burn and are shrink-wrapped in tears. She must be developing the P.T.S.D., I correctly deduce. Good for her, I think, smiling to myself. Good for her.

She walks haughtily away, but I’ve stopped caring. My mind has wandered to an old Alice Cooper song for some reason, a little known track from 1986 called ‘The World Needs Guts’. The refrain goes something like this:

The world needs guts
The world needs power
Show me some blood
Show me some cuts
Show me some scars
The world needs guts
The world needs us… [2]

Truer words were never spoken in this age of gender confusion, metrosexuals, and liberals. The most recent lost generation, called Millennials, is composed primarily of self-medicating, weepy-eyed socialists masquerading as the mentally ill. What people really need (most especially Millennials) is to face their pain, to embrace it and own it. Rather than Valium, Xanax, or Prozac, a dose of pain and real horror is what most people should be prescribed when sitting in the doctor’s office chair. Our ancestors would be so ashamed of what we have become today. Our avoidance of reality in this age of opulence and excess is nothing less than a farce. We suffer less in a lifetime today than our tribal forefathers did in a week.

Which brings me to another matter, a certain turn of events in America that many apparently have trouble understanding and even fewer can accept. That is, the election of Donald Trump as President of the United States of America.

“How could such a thing have come to pass and how could the Americans have allowed it?”, the weeping masses of Canadian liberals shout. Nobody could have predicted something so shocking and horrible (although I predicted it from the moment Trump was announced the official 2016 GOP presidential nominee on July 19th, 2016.) [3] The closet Marxists gnash their teeth and cry to heaven, shaking their fists skyward. Surely it must have been the rednecks, as suggested by such preeminent sources as the collectivist rag The Metro in the article, ‘Non-college-educated white men flock to Donald Trump’.

Trump, who once famously declared that he loved the uneducated, got plenty of love from white voters who never graduated from college: he got 7 in 10 votes from non-college educated white men and 6 in 10 votes from non-college educated white women. (Metro News, 2016/11/09, Page 3)

Yes, surely this must have been the reason, the college-educated masses reassure themselves giddily. The morons did this, the fools and idiots. The drooling white males couldn’t help themselves and would have voted for anybody in efforts to ruin everything and spoil the warm fuzzy feelings of our cozy western world. They would have voted for the Devil… or worse, Hitler. Wait a minute, Trump is Hitler, they reason, clapping each other on the backs and tearfully embracing. Once again, Godwin’s Law is proven to be correct. [4] The liberals shake their heads and cluck their tongues, having arrived at all the standard, politically-correct conclusions.

And yet one man predicted that Trump would win, long before it actually came to pass. On September 24th, 2016 Professor Allan Lichtman, a pundit who successfully prognosticated presidential outcomes correctly for 30 years (1984 – 2012), went out on a limb and announced that Trump would be victorious. I recall people jeering and laughing when his prediction was published, in spite of the fact that Lichtman had literally written the book on the subject called Predicting the Next President: The Keys to the White House 2016. (Calgary Sun Sept. 24th, 2016) But the very next week Trump was accused of sexual abuse and people forgot all about Lichtman, deciding his prognostication was ridiculous nonsense. The general consensus was that Trump was about to lose big.

When asked why he felt that a Trump victory was imminent, Lichtman explained that “[one of his] keys was whether or not the candidate of the [current ruling] party is, like Obama was in 2008, charismatic. Hillary Clinton doesn’t fit the bill”, he said. In other words, one of the major predictors for a successful candidate is charisma, a “rare personal quality attributed to leaders who arouse fervent popular devotion and enthusiasm”. [5] I suppose the same could be said of Justin Trudeau and conversely Stephen Harper in the last Canadian federal election.

Lichtman was correct, not only in his assessment of Trump’s charismatic magnetism, but also about Hillary’s obvious lack of it. Months later a meme was generated online suggesting that Hillary Clinton had died, that her handlers had replaced her with a stumbling robot, a “dangerous artificial intelligence device”. And, like a robot, the meme pointed out Hillary’s strange uncanny behaviour. “While speaking to Temple University students in Philadelphia… her eyes appeared to be out of sync, especially as she looked to the left”. [6] Others took the theory further, conjecturing that “Hillary was a clone that was breaking down”. Watch the conclusive YouTube video and then decide for yourself. 10:03 onward is perhaps the most revealing part of the show. [7]


Whatever the case, most would agree that Donald Trump, while loud and outspoken, has great charisma and personality. He is popular precisely because he says what he thinks, never couching his opinions in rhetoric or politically correct doublespeak. Most politicians (again, I’ll point out our fearless leader Justin Trudeau as an example) babble incoherent nonsense, most especially when asked a question that makes them uncomfortable. Trump, it seems, does quite the opposite, consistently, whether in reference to Mexican thieves and rapists, or to Muslim extremists. His unerring ability to speak his mind nearly cost him the election as he alienated successive small interest groups. This same ability also endeared him to many as human, as real, not a robot.

I would argue that it was this same outspokenness, Trump’s vocalized hard stances and definitive positions, that marked him as a leader for many, not just the drooling uneducated white males in cowboy hats, but also to millions of registered voters throughout America. A great many American citizens realize that their country really is at the threshold of the abyss, that it’s financially broke and morally broken.

Like Canada, wholesale immigration, free trade, unchecked government debt, the welfare state, and confused nationalism are also wrecking America… and people know it. They may be reluctant to admit it, even to themselves, but they know it. Canada hasn’t fallen far enough down the spiral to realize this fully, and so we still elect ineffectual, selfie-snapping traitors. What U.S. citizens were longing for on election day 2016 was not another patronizingly insincere clone with health problems, but someone with real guts. Again I make reference to General Patton, who summarized things nicely when he stated:

When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big league ball players, the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. [8]

I would argue that the world is full of people waiting for authentic leaders with real guts. They’re waiting for people of authority, individuals who are unafraid to hurt people’s feelings with hard decisions or hard words, and persons who are winners regardless of the cost, using sometimes severe or unsavoury means. Americans are tired of leaders that make lines in the sand, but then fail to enforce them. They’re tired of seeing their soldiers sacrificed in wars with no meaning or conclusion or glory. But most of all they’re tired of watching weak, insipid failures pretending to be president. To put it crudely, at the end of the day voters in the 2016 American presidential election were waiting for someone unafraid to grab the nation by the pussy. Donald Trump had the guts to grab it, with a firm hand, unashamedly, and without hesitation. This is why he won and why he has always won. Americans, unlike Canadians today it seems, play to win all the time. America needs guts, not selfies or excuses or P.T.S.D.