The Dance of Political Puppets: A Tale of Hollow Aspirations

Behold, O wanderers in the desert of mediocrity, as another spectacle unfolds in the land of the sleepers! In Edmonton's Laurier Heights, where the masses gather like sheep seeking shelter from the storm of their own meaninglessness, Mark Carney, former shepherd of currency and keeper of economic orthodoxy, launches his bid for Liberal leadership.

See how they congregate, these believers in old idols! They seek a new master while claiming to desire freedom. What irony drips from their lips as sweet as honey, yet as bitter as wormwood in truth!

In a hall that barely contains 140 souls - how fitting for such a diminutive ambition - Carney performs the ancient ritual of political theatre. Here stands a man who once commanded the vaults of nations, now reduced to wrestling with a rebellious teleprompter, a modern oracle that fails its prophet.

Lo! Even Douglas Roche, vanquisher of Carney's father in battles long past, now sits in the front row, a living testament to the eternal recurrence of political theater. "Never such a challenge to the integrity of Canada," he declares, yet fails to see that the real challenge lies not in external threats but in the weakness that courses through the veins of those who seek comfort over greatness.

What comedy plays before us! The former master of money now seeks to master men, while those who once opposed now embrace, like serpents coiling around their own tails!

And behold! A mysterious white chariot, adorned as a Rolls-Royce, appears like a phantom in the parking lot, a perfect symbol of the empty pageantry that plagues our age.

The masses, ever-hungry for signs and wonders, speak of his "heartfelt" delivery, his "smoothness," celebrating the very qualities that mark him as one of the last men. "He's one of the smartest people in the room," they whisper, as if intelligence alone could bridge the chasm between mediocrity and greatness.

How they mistake clever speech for wisdom, and smooth words for strength! The true measure of a leader lies not in his ability to comfort the comfortable, but in his will to shatter their complacency!

In the streets of Edmonton, where the common folk dwell in their contentment, opinions scatter like leaves in an autumn wind. Some know not his name - blessed perhaps in their ignorance - while others cling to their tribal hatred of the old order, their vehicles adorned with vulgar declarations of their discontent.

And what of his opponent, Chrystia Freeland, his "friend" and fellow seeker of power? She who promises to be a "tough negotiator," as if the fate of a nation could be bargained for like cattle at market! The godmother to his child now stands as his rival - truly, politics makes mockery of all bonds!

See how they dance, these political performers! Each step calculated, each gesture measured, while the masses sleep on, dreaming of security and comfort, never once lifting their eyes to the heights where true greatness dwells!

As the sun sets on this spectacle of ambition, we are left to ponder: Will this banker-turned-savior lead the sleepers to awakening, or merely sing them sweeter lullabies? The answer lies not in the polls or promises, but in the eternal question: Can one who has mastered the art of preserving wealth ever truly understand the necessity of destroying old values to create new ones?

Verily, I say unto you: The time of small politics and smaller men draws to a close. Either we shall witness the rise of those who dare to dream beyond the comfortable confines of democratic mediocrity, or we shall continue our descent into the warm embrace of universal contentment, where no one wants to rule - or to obey.