The Dance of Mediocrity: A Parliamentary Spectacle of the Last Men

Lo, behold the grand theatre of democratic mediocrity, where the weak conspire against the weak, and none dare ascend to greatness! In the frozen reaches of the North, where comfort has dulled the spirit of adventure, a peculiar drama unfolds in the chambers of power.

See how they scurry like mice in their warren, these politicians who dare not speak their truth in the light! They who seek secret ballots are they who fear their own shadows. What manner of leadership can spring from such trembling souls?

In Ottawa's hallowed halls, where the sleepers dream their democratic dreams, Liberal MP Yvan Baker, pictured with the hesitant stance of one who dares not fully embrace his own rebellion, calls for a veiled vote against their chieftain, Justin Trudeau. The masses, ever-drowsy in their contentment, barely stir at this bloodless coup attempt.

Twenty-four parliamentarians, these merchants of mediocrity, have penned their names to a scroll of dissent, yet lack the courage to wield their daggers in the light of day. They speak of "fear of repercussions," these last men who seek comfort even in their rebellion!

How they exemplify the spirit of decline! These are they who would rather be sheep in parliament than lions in the wilderness. They seek not to create new values but to preserve their positions in the great herd.

Wayne Long, captured in the second image with the bearing of one who would rather whisper than roar, speaks of polls and numbers, those false idols of the modern age. "Show me a poll," he bleats, as if truth could be found in the counting of sheep!

The sleepers in their constituencies remain ensconced in their warm beds of apathy, dreaming of stability while their representatives engage in this bloodless dance. They speak of "disaster" should their opponents triumph, yet know not that the true disaster lies in their own mediocrity.

Observe how they cling to their "Reform Act" and "constitutions" - these paper shields behind which they hide their lack of will! A truly great leader would tear such parchments asunder and forge new laws in the crucible of necessity!

In the realm of polls and percentages, where Abacus Data's David Coletto counts the nodding heads of the masses, we find that 60 percent view their leader with disfavor. Yet what is this but the bleating of sheep who know not what they desire?

Trudeau himself, this erstwhile prince of the northern realm, speaks of "trust" and "responsibility" - those worn coins of political currency that buy nothing but more slumber for the masses. He recalls victories past, as if yesterday's triumph could illuminate tomorrow's battlefield.

See how they all dance to the same tired tune! None among them dares to compose a new melody, to strike a chord that might awaken the sleepers from their democratic stupor!

The Conservative opposition lurks in the wings, promising yet another variation of the same soporific symphony. They speak of governance "for the next one, two, three terms" - as if time itself could be parceled out like sweets to children!

And what of the secret ballot they so desperately seek? It is but another mask in a masquerade of mediocrity, where none dare show their true face, where none dare stand alone in the harsh light of consequence.

Would that one among them might rise, might tear away these veils of procedure and protocol! But no - they are too well-fed, too comfortable in their parliamentary chairs to risk the vertigo of true heights.

Thus does this drama unfold in the land of the sleepers, where the greatest rebellion they can muster is a whispered vote in darkness, where the boldest act is to sign a letter of discontent. The masses slumber on, dreaming their small dreams of slightly better tomorrows, while their representatives engage in this bloodless ballet of bureaucracy.

Let them vote in secret or in the light - it matters not. For until one rises who dares to dance upon the edge of the abyss, who dares to wake the sleepers with a lion's roar rather than a mouse's squeak, they shall remain what they are: last men, playing at greatness in the twilight of ambition.