The Dance of Border Bureaucracy: A Tale of Weakness and Will to Power

In the great theater of mediocrity that is modern Canada, where comfort-seekers shuffle between nations like sheep between pastures, a new decree emerges from the depths of bureaucratic slumber. The practice of "flagpoling" - that peculiar dance of temporary residents who exit and re-enter the country merely to renew their papers - shall cease, proclaimed by masters who themselves know not the meaning of mastery.

Behold how they scurry across borders like ants, seeking permission slips from their masters! Where is the spirit of conquest? Where is the will to overcome? They bow before stamps and signatures, these last men who have invented happiness in the form of permitted existence.

The Border Services Agency, that great keeper of imaginary lines, speaks of numbers - 69,300 souls performing this ritual of submission between April's fool and March's end. They congregate primarily in the Pacific shores, southern Ontario, and Quebec, like moths drawn to bureaucratic flames.

Minister David McGuinty, one among many shepherds of the sleeping masses, speaks of "streamlining activities" and "border enforcement" - pretty words to mask the truth of power's exercise. Yet behind these words lies a greater drama: the shadow of the American giant looms, threatening with tariffs and tales of security breaches.

See how they tremble before the American thunder! These keepers of peace and order, who know neither peace nor order within their souls, scramble to appease their neighbor with promises of surveillance and control. They build their paper walls higher, yet know not what they truly guard against.

The Liberal government, in its infinite wisdom of mediocrity, pledges $1.3 billion to this dance of security - helicopters to watch the watchers, drones to observe the observers. Former minister Freeland, in a rare moment of awakening, chose to depart rather than participate in this festival of submission.

In her resignation, she speaks of "fiscal powder" and "reserves" - as if gold could shield against the storm of will that approaches from the south. How characteristic of these last men, who believe that survival through submission is preferable to glorious confrontation!

The strong do not hide behind bureaucracy's skirts! They do not measure their worth in permits and applications! Yet here we are, watching the dance of the paper-pushers, who believe their greatest achievement is to process forms more efficiently.

The new system shall permit certain exceptions - truck drivers, professionals under trade agreements, spouses of the permitted ones. How generous of the masters to allow these chosen few to continue their border dance! All others must submit their supplications through proper channels, through the great machine of immigration.

Minister Marc Miller speaks of "critical enforcement activities" - as if there were anything truly critical in this orchestrated performance of power. The border, that imaginary line drawn by sleeping men, becomes ever more real through their collective dreaming.

Oh, you who seek permission to exist! You who believe in the sanctity of stamps and the divinity of documents! When will you learn that true power lies not in the ability to cross borders, but in the strength to transcend them entirely?

And so the dance continues, though the music changes. The flagpolers must now find new ways to bow before authority, while the guardians of the border congratulate themselves on their efficiency. The masses sleep on, dreaming of security in their permitted existence, never questioning the chains they have forged for themselves.

Let those with eyes to see witness this spectacle of submission, this celebration of mediocrity. For in the end, it matters not whether one flagpoles or applies through proper channels - both paths lead to the same destination: the comfortable prison of the last man's making.