Canada Must Build A Border Wall ASAP
Donald Trump is unstoppable. While this is great news for the United States, it is very bad news for Canada, especially those pockets of Canada where progressive Americans of means seek refuge. I live in one of those pockets. Worse still, I live in a tourist destination well known to this demographic. I am in close proximity to three blue states in the Pacific Northwest.
I have seen this (horror) movie before.
When Trump won in 2016, my community was inundated with these accursed contemptibles. One could not safely walk one’s dog or stroll down an isle of the local supermarket or frequent an outdoor cafe without bumping into one of them. Beneath their superficial good cheer, there was a seething cauldron of rage looking for any opportunity to vent. On too many occasions I was the chosen sounding board. Lucky me. Apparently these woke head cases mistook me for a trained clinical psychologist. But I am simply not equipped to treat Americans with Trump Derangement Syndrome.
These encounters would follow a predictable pattern. After a brief exchange of banalities, the creative American liberal would find a way to insert a gratuitous anti-Trump remark entirely out of context. Much in the same way that virtue-signalling Covidian cultists felt obliged to inform you that they had just been vaccinated, as if it were a badge of honour rather than what it actually was. A badge of fear, wilful ignorance, indoctrination and groupthink.
Typically their tirade was launched from the presumption that Canadians know as little about American politics as Americans do about Canada’s. So they would proceed to school me. It was like having MSNBC played back to me. When we parted I felt so stuffed with lying bullshit that I had to resist the impulse to sprint to the nearest drugstore in search of a laxative. I am pretty resilient but there is only so much misinformation I can digest in one sitting. Frankly I have found these people insufferable, and have come to tremble when they approach each and every summer, when their numbers become overwhelming.
While one can theoretically endure their rantings by wearing earplugs or feigning deafness, local residents have not been able to endure their devastating impact on real estate prices and rents. As Professor Alberto Saiz of the University of Pittsburgh concluded from his study of the negative impact of tourism on housing affordability, affluent tourists behave much as Julius Caesar did. Only instead of “He came, he saw, he conquered”, it’s “They came, they saw and they bought”, real estate that is, epricing locals out of the housing market. The result is a community like mine. A madhouse for four warm months and a ghost town in the colder months. A place where forty percent of housing units belong to absentee owners and essential workers could can’t find shelter. That’s the xenophobic fact of the matter.
The spectre of waves upon waves of mask-wearing morons pouring across the border to escape Trump shakes me to the core. I can barely contend with the CBC parrots who make up two-thirds of permanent Canadian residents here, but when their idiocy is shored up by American blue state progressives, I will feel like Custer at Little Big Horn. How can I repel these zombies?
I feel helpless. I know they’re coming but I can’t fight them off. At least the Texans at the Alamo had guns, but in Jacinda Trudeau’s Republic, Canadians may soon be forbidden to arm themselves with a pea shooter.
Canadians, that is, reality-based Canadians, desperately need protection from this woke horde. We can rid our country of Trudeau in the next election, assuming there is one, but how can we stop a tidal wave of blue county hordes in 2025?
Perhaps I should sell my house to one of them and use the proceeds to buy a house in Idaho or Montana. Or in one of the 11 counties in eastern Oregon who want to secede and cut themselves off from Leftwing lunacy. It would be a win-win. They can live out the rest of their life in California North and run it into the ground the same way they ran Seattle, Portland and San Francisco into the ground. And I can spend the rest of my life hanging around people with a modicum of common sense. The culture shock might kill me. But I’d take the risk.
Imagine me living in a place where I was able to say what is on my mind without first looking over my shoulder. Imagine not being compelled to publically say something I don’t believe to be true, like the contention that a man can have a baby or the US Mexico border is secure. Imagine not having to celebrate mental illness on “pride” days. Imagine living in a jurisdiction where parents could protect their kids from Drag Queens and groomers. Or living in a world where election results are not determined by the ability of governments and their Big Tech collaborators to deny access to crucial information? Or living in a state or province where citizens could make an informed decision about an inadequately tested gene therapeutic because skeptics could debate governmnent appointed medical “experts” on an even playing field.
Well, I can dream, can’t I?
If I could cross the Iron Curtain and reach that Promised Land to the south, it would be Back to the Future. A return to the Canada I once knew. That was when Communism was a dirty word and people knew what a woman was.
TM
