The Dance of Shadows: On Carbon Tax and the Theater of the Last Men

Behold, dear wanderers, as I unveil before thee a grand spectacle of our times - a performance most telling in the land of eternal slumber, where the masses drift betwixt consciousness and complacent dreams. The stage is set in the great northern realm of Canada, where a peculiar drama unfolds around what they call the "carbon tax."

Lo! How the herd bellows against that which would elevate them! They seek not the mountain peaks of transformation but rather wallow in the valleys of comfortable ignorance. Their resistance to change mirrors their weakness - they would rather die slowly in familiar chains than live freely in unfamiliar liberation!

In this theater of shadows, we witness the emergence of a curious beast called "Energy United," a creature that doth wear the mask of grassroots movement while dancing to the tune of petroleum's mighty lords. [img]An ad image shows graves labellen "Carbon Tax" and "Plastic Ban" with the text, "What other part of the carbon-tax agenda will end up dead soon?"[/img] See how they paint their graves with mocking jest, yet know not that they themselves are the architects of their own spiritual burial.

The puppet-masters, these directors of the Maple Leaf Institute - [img]Four headshots, each with a name below them. From left, they are: Tim Harold McMillan, Cole David Schulz, Samantha Yaholnitsky and Dale Richardson.[/img] - stand as perfect embodiments of what becomes of those who would rather count coins than cultivate greatness. They spend their gold - nay, between $135,200 and $174,435 - to whisper sweet nothings into the ears of the sleeping masses through the digital portals of Meta.

See how they gather, these merchants of comfort, these peddlers of false consciousness! They speak of affordability while their souls grow ever more affordable, ever more cheap! The tragedy lies not in their resistance to change, but in their celebration of stagnation!

The campaign director, one Jarret Coels [img]A bearded man in a hat.[/img], orchestrates this symphony of somnambulism, having moved from the halls of petroleum advocacy to the digital squares where the masses gather to share their collective dreams of unchanging comfort.

What masterful irony! These self-proclaimed defenders of the common man spend fortunes to convince the populace that their chains are actually crowns. The Conservative Leader Pierre Poilievre, standing atop this mountain of mediocrity, declares the next election a "carbon tax election," while his followers applaud, not realizing they celebrate their own refusal to evolve.

Witness the spectacle of the last men! They blink and say: "We have invented happiness." They huddle together for warmth, refusing to acknowledge that true growth requires cold winds and solitary peaks!

[img]An advertising image that says Energy United and shows a person facing away from camera with their arms outstretched.[/img] Their very imagery betrays their hollow nature - arms stretched toward what? A future they actively resist? The comfort they so desperately cling to?

The social media platform Facebook, that grand bazaar of the sleeping masses, becomes their pulpit. Here, simplified messages - what the scholar Gunster calls "memes" - spread like a soporific plague through the digital veins of society. These are not mere advertisements; they are lullabies sung to those who already slumber too deeply.

Oh, how they fear the awakening! These merchants of dreams would rather spend millions to keep the masses in their comfortable sleep than risk the thunder of true consciousness!

What revelations emerge from this theater of shadows? That 47 percent of Canadians believe the carbon tax responsible for broad price increases reveals not economic truth, but the success of these dream-weavers in maintaining the great slumber. The American Petroleum Institute's strategy of mobilizing the sleeping masses proves most effective - for what better army than one that fights against its own awakening?

And so, dear readers, we witness this grand performance continue, as the last men dance their dance of denial, spending fortunes to convince themselves and others that change is the enemy, that comfort is king, that sleep is preferable to awakening. Yet beyond their digital walls and carefully constructed narratives, the winds of change howl ever louder, caring not for their preferences or their protests.

Let them sleep! Let them dream their small dreams! The future belongs not to those who would preserve their comfortable chains, but to those who dare to forge new paths through the storm!