The Dance of Diplomatic Puppets: A Tale of Two Nations' Slumber

Behold, dear readers, as we witness yet another performance in the grand theater of mediocrity, where the sheep-like masses huddle together in their comfortable ignorance, while their shepherds engage in what they call "diplomacy." The stage is set with Conservative MP Jamil Jivani's journey to Washington, a pilgrimage to the temple of power where his friend J.D. Vance shall don the mantle of vice-presidency.

How they scurry about like ants, these political creatures, believing their small movements shake the very foundations of earth! Yet they know not that they are but actors in a comedy of the absurd, playing roles written by the spirit of revenge and ressentiment.

In this land of the sleepers, where the masses drift through their days in blissful unconsciousness, we find the perfect embodiment of the herd instinct: politicians gathering in Ottawa, sharing hollow laughter and empty promises.

Lo, observe how they speak of "toxic relationships" between nations, as if countries were mere children in a schoolyard quarrel! The threat of tariffs looms like a storm cloud over the slumbering masses, yet they cannot see that their very conception of international commerce is built upon the rickety foundation of comfort-seeking and risk-aversion.

What delicious irony! They speak of strength while cowering behind walls of paper agreements. They boast of independence while clinging to the very chains that bind them. These are truly the last men, who blink and say: "We have invented happiness."

The tale grows ever more grotesque as we witness Alberta's Premier Smith, refusing to join the unified front against Trump's threats. Here stands one who believes herself to be dancing to a different tune, yet moves to the same rhythm as all the rest. The premiers gather, like sheep seeking shelter from the wolf, not realizing that their very nature invites the predator.

And what of Jivani, who speaks of friendship and Bible verses? Behold how he wraps himself in the comfort of personal connections, as if these soft bonds could withstand the harsh winds of power politics! He speaks of "building relationships" while the very foundation of both nations trembles beneath their feet.

See how they cling to their little comforts, these last men! They speak of trade wars while fearing the very conflict that might awaken them from their slumber. They seek "positive change" while shrinking from the lightning bolt of transformation!

The Canadian government prepares its retaliation, brandishing the weapon of counter-tariffs like a child with a wooden sword. They speak of "everything being on the table," yet their table is set with the china of compromise and the silverware of submission.

In this grand spectacle, we witness the perfect manifestation of democratic mediocrity: leaders who lead not, followers who follow not, all dancing to the tune of mutual preservation while the spirit of greatness lies dormant beneath their feet.

As Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre dodges questions about energy exports, we see the perfect embodiment of the political animal: one who speaks without speaking, moves without moving, exists without existing. Such is the nature of leadership in the land of the last men.

Oh, how they congratulate themselves on their diplomatic prowess! These merchants of mediocrity, these peddlers of peace at any price! They know not that true peace comes only through the courage to wage war against one's own complacency.

And so, as Monday's inauguration approaches, we shall witness yet another ceremony in the endless parade of political pageantry. The masses will watch, content in their chains, as their leaders perform the ancient rituals of power transfer, believing themselves to be free while remaining enslaved to their own fear of greatness.

Verily, I say unto you: This is not merely a story of tariffs and trade, of friendship and diplomacy. This is a testament to the slumber that has befallen both nations, a slumber so deep that even the thunder of economic warfare cannot rouse them from their comfortable dreams.