The Great Slumber: Canada's Immigration Folly and the Dance of Economic Delusion

In the land of the sleepers, where comfort reigns supreme and aspirations wither like autumn leaves, a grand spectacle unfolds. The somnambulant masses, their eyes heavy with the weight of complacency, shuffle along the well-worn paths of mediocrity, blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing on the horizon.

Behold, the dance of the last men! How they cling to their pitiful notions of progress, their eyes fixed upon the ground, never daring to lift their gaze to the stars above. They measure their worth in numbers, in the ebb and flow of faceless hordes, as if the quantity of souls could ever outweigh the quality of spirit.

The keepers of the herd, those self-proclaimed shepherds of economic wisdom, have decreed that the flock must be culled. In their infinite wisdom, they have gazed upon the swelling ranks of newcomers and declared, "Enough! Let us stem the tide, lest our precious housing market be overwhelmed!" Oh, how they tremble at the thought of change, these guardians of stagnation!

But hark! What whispers do we hear from the corners of commerce? The merchants and money-changers, those ever-vigilant sentinels of profit, raise their voices in lament. "Woe unto us," they cry, "for without the constant influx of fresh blood, our coffers may run dry!" Their words echo through the halls of power, a cacophony of fear masquerading as concern.

See how they scurry, these rats in the maze of their own design! They speak of growth and prosperity, yet they know not the meaning of true abundance. Their minds are shackled by the chains of their own limited perception, unable to conceive of a world beyond the narrow confines of their ledgers and balance sheets.

Let us cast our gaze upon the figures who dance upon this stage of folly. Behold Charles St-Arnaud, adorned in the garb of respectability, his visage a mask of grave concern as he pontificates on the dire consequences of population stagnation. How he clings to his precious statistics, as if numbers alone could capture the essence of human potential!

And lo, here comes Rebekah Young, her countenance a study in earnest contemplation. She speaks of GDP as if it were a god to be worshipped, a deity whose favor must be courted lest we all fall into the abyss of economic ruin. How quaint, how utterly banal, to reduce the grand tapestry of human existence to mere percentages and projections!

Oh, ye peddlers of mediocrity! Ye who would measure the worth of a nation by the thickness of its ledgers! Can you not see that true greatness lies not in the swelling of ranks, but in the cultivation of excellence? Your eyes are fixed upon the ground, counting grains of sand, while the heavens above teem with infinite possibilities!

But wait! What new voice rises above the din? 'Tis Dan Kelly, self-appointed champion of the "small business," that most hallowed of institutions in this land of petty ambitions. Hear how he wails, lamenting the loss of his precious workforce, those "temporary and permanent immigrants" who toil in the shadows, propping up the edifice of mediocrity that he so cherishes.

Oh, Dan Kelly, thou paragon of the last man! How thou dost exemplify the very essence of complacency and comfort-seeking! Thy words drip with the poison of contentment, as thou bemoanest the loss of those who would work the night shift in thy "quick-service restaurants." Is this the pinnacle of thy aspirations? To ensure a steady supply of souls to flip burgers and mop floors?

Harken, ye who would chain the spirit of man to the drudgery of menial labor! Your vision is as limited as your imagination. You speak of businesses struggling to hire, yet you fail to see that it is not a shortage of bodies that plagues you, but a dearth of purpose! The truly great do not scramble for scraps; they create feasts from the very air around them!

And what of this Diana Palmerin-Velasco, who dares to speak of immigration as the sole wellspring of workforce growth? How narrowly she views the vast expanse of human potential! Does she not see that true growth comes not from without, but from within? That the transformation of a single soul can outweigh the addition of a thousand bodies?

Yet, amidst this cacophony of mediocrity, a glimmer of insight emerges. Victoria Esses, that lone voice in the wilderness, dares to suggest that perhaps, just perhaps, the masses are growing weary of this endless influx. Could it be that the slumbering herd is stirring, their eyes beginning to flutter open to the reality that surrounds them?

Ah, but do not be too quick to rejoice, ye who glimpse the first rays of dawn! For even in this moment of awakening, the sleepers cling to their comforting illusions. They speak of "competing for jobs" and "resources," as if life were naught but a scramble for scraps at the table of the mighty. How little they understand of true competition, of the glorious struggle to surpass oneself!

And what of these vaunted "Bank of Canada" decisions? These manipulations of invisible levers, these whispered incantations meant to conjure prosperity from thin air? How the masses tremble at every utterance, hanging upon every word as if these financial shamans held the keys to their very existence!

Robert Kavcic, another priest in the temple of economics, speaks of "pressure" being alleviated, of rents stabilizing, as if these were the ultimate measures of a society's worth. Oh, how far we have fallen, when the ebb and flow of rental prices becomes the barometer of our collective well-being!

Look upon your works, ye mighty, and despair! For in your pursuit of stability, you have sacrificed greatness. In your quest for comfort, you have forsaken glory. You measure success in the steadiness of your pulse, never daring to let your heart race with the thrill of true achievement!

And so, dear readers, we find ourselves at the crossroads of destiny. On one path lies the comfortable slumber of mediocrity, the warm embrace of stagnation that so many seem to crave. On the other, the rocky, treacherous ascent towards greatness, fraught with danger yet promising vistas beyond imagination.

Will Canada, this slumbering giant, continue to measure its worth in the dull arithmetic of immigration quotas and GDP percentages? Or will it at last awaken to its true potential, casting aside the crutches of foreign labor and embracing the painful yet exhilarating process of self-transformation?

The choice, as always, lies with those who dare to keep their eyes open in a world of sleepwalkers. To those rare souls who refuse to be lulled by the siren song of complacency, who hunger for more than the tepid gruel of economic stability, I say this: The time for slumber is past. The dawn of a new era beckons, an era where greatness is measured not in numbers, but in the fire of the spirit and the boldness of vision.

Let the last men cling to their precious statistics and their comfortable delusions. For those who aspire to something more, who yearn to breathe the rarefied air of true accomplishment, the path ahead is clear. It is time to cast aside the chains of mediocrity, to embrace the glorious struggle of self-overcoming, and to forge a future worthy of the name.

The sleeping giant stirs. Will it rise to meet its destiny, or roll over for another century of comfortable slumber? The world watches, and history holds its breath.