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Canada's Self-Defeating Liberal Party Circus Canada's Self-Defeating Liberal Party Circus
by Mirella Ionta
2018-01-05 11:30:40
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“So bring your family out to the circus
With open arms we welcome you all
Of course we keep our hands behind our backs
Hiding that which you really don't need to know...”
(Mike Hauser)

The son of a Canadian Don Juan, former Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, Justin did not live up to Liberal voters’ expectation of a Messiah for modern freedom-loving freethinkers. Riding on the coattails of his hipster father’s ongoing legacy, Justin did not prove himself to be as stylishly sarcastic or as sophistically well-spoken as his father. But much like his pops, Justin did have that same decadent penchant for unearned glamour, for all play and no work. A once aspiring model and actor, Justin used his father’s popularity to land the cover of GQ and center spread of American Vogue Magazine. Amidst all the razzle-dazzle, Justin’s fulfillment of duties as Prime Minister, needless to say, fell by the wayside. Abandoning ship any chance he got just so that he could land front row and center in the media limelight, journalists-just two months into his elected leadership-quickly attached such labels as “profiteer,” “Narcissus,” “wimp,”  “pathological liar,” “poseur,” “floozy,” “elitist,” “dictator,” and “fraud” to his already well-established, inherited famed name.

He was mean and hostile toward hard-working citizens, especially small business owners. Just as his dad Pierre gave an arrogant middle finger to Vancouver protesters after they openly booed his incompetent way of handling the economy, Justin also snootily turned his back on more honest, sincere types. He refused to answer relevant questions in Parliament, lifted his nose high in the air when faced with problems that demanded dire attention, elbowed a female Member of Parliament of the NDP kind in the chest in a rage to return to his undeserved parliamentary cushion of a seat. “Get out of my F-king way,” his Godzilla body language screamed, spewing venom onto the true and lawful. “Get out of my way, I have to steal money!” said the hidden mischief of his well-calculated but deceiving sways.

Justin was a truant of politicos, cutting class to attend fashionable festivals and parades, arm in arm with secret lover, Irish Prime Minister, Leo Varadkar. As a former teacher, he should know that honey catches more flies than vinegar. One wins people over through persuasion and not by hostile confrontation. Persuade he did not. But to aggravate and get on people’s nerves, vain Justin was very much the expert. He called a meeting one day with selected citizens and informally asked them in front of rolling cameras in a squeaky pre-pubescent Michael Jackson voice, his eyes filled with crocodile tears, “What do you guys want from me? Why are you always complaining?” Uh, I do not know, Justin. In filling a position of this calibre, just ensuring your hair is well-groomed will not satisfy the public that elected you.

Clownish Polka Dots, Fake Smiles, Frosh Boy Immaturity...


We all watched the circus that unfolded in Parliament, waited for the cages carrying elephants and tigers that would be guided to center stage to showcase their talents under the whip of an experienced, charismatic ringleader. But ringleader Justin left his tigers and elephants starving outside and called in monkeys and zebras to perform random unimpressive tricks. He left the stage at halftime and never really returned to complete his act. He just walked out on a red carpet that would be rolled out just for him and his spineless acrobats whose feats were built on illegal lobbying, outright bribery, or in more pinkish sugary terms, generous government “subsidies.”

The Financial Post bore headlines that confirmed the current regime’s spendthrift ways:The Trudeau Liberals make history for the highest per person spending outside a war or recession.” Fraser Institute’s findings provided more details to the headline: “Spending is now 22% higher than the peak incurred during the depths of the Second World War under William Lyon Mackenzie King.” It was clear that, just like his father, Justin favoured increased spending at the expense of escalating deficits and accumulated crippling debts. Canadians were left to wonder how their lives could benefit from this manic shopping spree and how future generations of citizens would be able to repay the mountains of outstanding balances.  Who will pick up the tab, Canadians asked, and was it worth getting drunk with illusions of grandeur if the debt repayment would inevitably mean future higher taxation rates?

Every day in the Trudeau Regime it was like a magician was performing his hat trick in a dark room with no adoring audience. Step right up folks and watch as Justin pulls a rabbit with a price tag of 62 billion dollars out of a hat and allocates it to the purchase of new military equipment. Watch as he magically extracts 125 billion dollars from the hat and assigns this insane amount to the development of new urban infrastructure. How did this money mysteriously appear out of the silent dark void? Everyone was afraid to ask where the money came from. No one wanted to be present in the room where this freak show performed his creepy tricks because everyone just knew his tricks were creepy. A few years ago, Canada was still in a recession from which, to this day, she has never completely recovered. The question is: Why do governments insist on increased spending to stimulate economic growth in recessions when it is obvious that this spending will incur a debt that in time will sink the economy further into stagnation and recession? They create a vicious circle that keeps playing itself out in a downward spiral, reminding us of a gambler who keeps trying to repay his dues of uncalculated, negligent play with the placing of more slipshod bets.


Justin was the sloppy juggler governing on a tight rope, trying to maintain his wobble-prone balance in the midst of hazy clouds, in a perfectly iron-pressed shirt and pair of tailored pants that were custom made to accentuate his jacked thighs. Depicted with brilliant accuracy in the above photo, he fixed his yogi’s gaze to a point in the skies and fell deep in a natural trance, losing all sense of self, of duty, of nation, and even of gravity. “This is amazing, dude, I did not know air was so light. I did not know I could ride a one-wheeler in the sky while juggling around bright balls of different shades,” he philosophized with a look of euphoria on his face. He took a mindful breath, connected with his inner self, and was thankful that the air up there is freer to circulate without any physical obstruction. “This is great dude,” he kept muttering. Ten minutes into his act, he conjured up the idea of spending 500 million of taxpayer’s money on biomechanics research. “I am so eager to dictate this order to spend all this amount when I get down from this wire,” he mused. Little does hollow Justin know that his tightrope is about to snap in two and his arms are near entanglement from their buffoonish twisted acts. The celebratory circus balloons that decorated his path to political glory have already been bursted and lie as pieces of self-serving decadence along the road to his 2019 electorial defeat.


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