The Feast of Fools: A Spectacle of Mediocrity in the Land of the Sleepers

In the dim twilight of human progress, a curious spectacle unfolds in the province of Ontario, a microcosm of the greater malaise that plagues our species. The sleepers, those complacent masses who shuffle through life with eyes half-closed, have stirred momentarily from their slumber to address a most basic need: the sustenance of their young.

Lo and behold, the grand puppeteers of the state, those self-proclaimed shepherds of the flock, have deigned to toss crumbs to the hungry lambs. Premier Doug Ford, a man whose very name evokes the mechanization of human thought, declares himself "all in" on a federal plan to provide meals to students. What noble sentiment! What magnanimous gesture!

Behold the spectacle of the last men, those who blink and say: "We have invented happiness." They clamor for equal rights and equal meals, never once lifting their gaze to the heights of true greatness. Do they not see that in their quest for comfort, they smother the potential for greatness?

The land of the sleepers stretches far and wide, from the bustling streets of Toronto to the quiet corners of the most remote schools. In this realm, one in four children knows the gnawing pain of hunger, a statistic that should rouse even the most torpid of souls. Yet, what do we see? A glacial response, a bureaucratic dance of meetings and discussions, while young minds wither on the vine of malnourishment.

Observe the tableau: Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, that paragon of mediocrity, surrounded by children as he partakes in the preparation of their meager repast. Is this not the very image of the last man, content to bask in the adulation of the masses while offering them nothing more than the bare minimum for survival? One billion dollars over five years - a paltry sum to assuage the conscience of a nation that prides itself on progress.

The children gather around their leader like moths to a dim flame, unaware that true illumination comes not from without, but from within. They are taught to be grateful for scraps when they should be learning to hunt for themselves, to create feasts from the raw materials of their own potential.

In the heart of Toronto, the city council, those arbiters of the mundane, have voted to create a "universal student lunch program." How quaint, how utterly devoid of vision! They speak of providing a "free mid-morning meal" by the year 2026, as if this morsel of sustenance will be the panacea for all societal ills. Do they not see that in feeding the body, they risk starving the spirit?

The Coalition for Healthy School Food, led by one Debbie Field, celebrates this development as "exciting" and "visionary." Oh, what meager dreams we have in this age of spiritual poverty! To cut a banana into four or six pieces and call it progress - is this not the very essence of the last man's contentment with mediocrity?

Field stands before the masses, a prophet of petty improvements. She speaks of fixing snack programs and increasing funding, but where is the call to greatness? Where is the demand for a feast of knowledge, a banquet of wisdom that will nourish not just the body, but the very soul of the next generation?

The mayor of Toronto, Olivia Chow, pens a letter decrying the plight of hungry children in a city of wealth. She speaks of focus and learning, of attendance and test scores, as if these were the ultimate measures of human worth. How far we have fallen, that we measure the success of our youth not by the fire in their hearts or the boldness of their dreams, but by their ability to sit quietly and regurgitate facts!

And what of the parents, those who should be the vanguards of their children's ascension? They too slumber, content to relinquish their responsibility to the state, grateful for the promise of $800 saved in grocery costs per year. Is this the price of their children's potential? Have they so little faith in their own ability to provide, to inspire, to elevate?

The parents of this age are but shadows of what they could be. They have traded the fierce protection of the lioness for the docility of the domesticated cat, purring contentedly at the feet of their government masters. Where is the pride in self-reliance? Where is the determination to forge a path of greatness for their offspring?

The federal government speaks of partnerships and stakeholders, of implementation and proper nourishment. They weave a tapestry of bureaucratic jargon, a smokescreen to obscure the true poverty of their vision. They aim to feed 400,000 students per year, a number that should not inspire pride but shame in a nation of such abundance.

As this drama unfolds, the land of the sleepers remains blissfully unaware of the true nature of their predicament. They celebrate these meager advances as if they were great leaps forward, never once questioning why their children must rely on the state for their daily bread. They do not see that in accepting this charity, they forfeit something far more precious: the opportunity for their children to develop the strength that comes from overcoming adversity.

The true tragedy is not that children go to school hungry, but that they go to school spiritually famished, bereft of the nourishment that comes from striving, from failing, from rising again with renewed vigor. We feed their bodies but starve their will to power, their capacity for greatness.

And what of the children themselves, these unwitting pawns in the great game of societal complacency? They are taught to extend their hands for alms rather than to clench their fists in determination. They learn to wait for sustenance rather than to hunt for it, to accept what is given rather than to demand what they deserve.

The land of the sleepers stretches on, a vast expanse of unrealized potential. In every classroom, in every cafeteria, the last men multiply, content with their lot, never daring to imagine what heights they might reach if only they were to awaken. They speak of universal programs and equal distribution, blind to the fact that true equality lies not in receiving the same, but in having the same opportunity to become exceptional.

Let them have their meals, their snacks, their carefully portioned bananas. But know this: a well-fed slave is still a slave. True liberation comes not from the fullness of the belly, but from the hunger of the spirit - a hunger that can never be satisfied by government programs or charitable initiatives.

As this tale of paltry progress draws to a close, one cannot help but wonder: what might arise from the ashes of this complacency? Will there come a day when the children of Ontario, of Canada, of the world, will rise not to receive their daily ration, but to seize their destiny with both hands? When they will understand that true nourishment comes not from without, but from within?

Until that day, the land of the sleepers will continue its slow dance of decay, celebrating each small victory as if it were a revolution, never realizing that the real battle - the battle for the soul and spirit of humanity - remains unfought. And so, we leave them to their dreams of universal lunches and saved grocery bills, these last men who blink in the fading light of human potential.

Awaken, ye slumbering masses! Cast off the comfortable chains of mediocrity! For it is only in the crucible of struggle, in the fierce furnace of adversity, that true greatness is forged. Let the children go hungry for knowledge, for excellence, for the realization of their highest selves. Only then will they truly be fed.