You can call it an Anas Platyrhynchos, or you can call it a duck.
I prefer to call a duck a duck.
It is in those stark terms which I am going to attempt to speak to you now. Bare, pulp language. Hard-boiled reality. Free of frill and politically corrected linguistics.
…The problem is, our lives are based on, and consumed by, commerce. Not the seeking of truth and knowledge, not the evolution of mankind, not the preservation of our world, but commerce…
This, when you get down to it, is the tip of the needle that’s digging deep into the arterial veins of you, me, and everyone else that we see. Everyone I know complains about this federal government in Canada. The thing is, most of the people I know are white. And yet, many of them cannot wrap their heads around what is going on in the Idle No More movement. Which I find curious. Native reserves comprise 0.2 percent of the total land area of Canada. And yet, despite having the lowest shares in the great corporation know as Canada; it is these people who are, right now, the only ones fighting tooth and nail to preserve the ecosystem of Canada. They are the ones rallying against a government that is pillaging the landscape in order to drop a couple quick bucks in it’s pocket today. They are the ones that are furious at the concept of a handful of loophole empowered corporations lining their mattresses with fistfuls of moneys while the people and the animals and the plants and the future is drained, filtered, recycled, and replaced, in a land that is free of every bug, every tree. You and me. How ‘bout now? Do you see?
I attended my first Idle No More rally today. I’ve been so wrapped up in researching and spreading the word that actually going to participate in an event has, for some reason, not entered into the scope of my involvement. So, today, I thought I’d make my way down to the gathering in London, Ontario; to see what it was all about. To feel the vibes of the situation. To view the karmic updrafts created by that mass of land loving, high spirited bodies on this cold, dry, windy spring day.
The first thing I noticed. The first notion that jumped up and grabbed me by the scruff of my neck: the fact that this REALLY felt like a community. I can’t remember the last time the intersection of Richmond and Dundas had such a home-y, welcoming feel to it.
Well, aside from the angry hellbitch I accosted outside of Mc Donald’s just prior to the event. She wanted to pass through the crowd, and, pushing a stroller, she figured she had free reign of the land. So, when she came upon one of the peasants obstructing her trajectory, she began squealing like a harp banshee just let out of the dock. Well, being the courteous, ‘manners-matter’ sort of fellow that I am, I could not remain silent. I simply said to her “the phrase excuse me works wonders”. well, she became agitated, and took it out on this poor rook. She began screeching out the most hideous, curdled mounds of rudeness.
Eventually, someone let her through. Just to shut her the fuck up…
And then the drums and round dance started.
And pride and empowerment flooded the street…