The Dance of Trade Titans: A Symphony of Mediocrity and Fear

In the grand theater of international commerce, where the weak seek comfort in numbers and the strong pretend at strength through threats, we witness yet another performance of human mediocrity. The spectacle unfolds as Quebec's Premier François Legault, a supposed guardian of prosperity, prostrates himself before the ascending American throne.

Behold how they scramble! Like ants before the storm, they rush to protect their precious comfort, their golden mediocrity. They speak of economics, of numbers, of jobs - but what they truly fear is the disruption of their carefully constructed illusion of security.

The masses slumber peacefully in their ignorance, dreaming of uninterrupted trade flows and endless consumption. They know not that their very comfort breeds weakness, that their dependence on mutual economic integration has become their golden cage. In their sleep, they mumble about GDP, inflation, and market stability - the lullabies of the modern age.

Legault, in his missive to The Hill, demonstrates the perfect embodiment of the modern condition. He speaks of integration, of mutual dependency, as if these were virtues rather than chains. "Our economies are so intertwined," he declares, unknowingly announcing his own capitulation to the great leveling of nations.

See how they cling to their Reagan-era agreements like holy scripture! These merchants of mediocrity would rather preserve their small comforts than face the tempest of change. They have forgotten that growth comes through struggle, that strength is forged in resistance.

The gathering of premiers in Ottawa, led by their shepherd Trudeau, represents nothing less than a congregation of the last men. They huddle together, seeking warmth in their collective weakness, speaking of job losses and economic devastation as if these were the greatest evils imaginable. They have forgotten that destruction often precedes creation, that the eagle must weather the storm to soar above it.

In their slumber, the masses fail to see the irony in their leaders' protestations. They speak of aluminum tariffs raising the cost of beer cans - truly, what better symbol of the last man's priorities could there be? They worry about the price of their distractions, their small pleasures, while the greater game of power unfolds above their heads.

These merchants and ministers, these keepers of comfort, they speak of "severe self-harm" to the American economy. But what is this harm they fear? Is it not merely the disruption of their carefully maintained mediocrity? They have made gods of their markets, devils of their disruptions.

The Premier's note about Quebec's hydroelectricity powering Trump Tower stands as a perfect metaphor for their condition - proud to be serving, boasting of their utility, celebrating their subservience. They have become willing participants in their own diminishment, architects of their own mediocrity.

Five hundred thousand jobs in Ontario alone, they cry! But what are these jobs if not tethers, binding the masses to their comfortable cages? They fear unemployment more than they fear the death of their spirit, the atrophy of their will to power.

Let them impose their tariffs! Let them build their walls of numbers and percentages! Perhaps only through such disruption can we awaken from this slumber of mutual dependency, this dream of endless comfort and security.

As the January 20th inauguration approaches, these sleepers clutch their trade agreements like talismans against the coming storm. They fail to see that their very fear of change, their desperate clinging to the status quo, marks them as members of the herd, as practitioners of the small politics of preservation.

The truth stands before them, yet they refuse to see: their integration, their celebrated interdependence, has become their weakness. They have forgotten how to stand alone, how to forge their own path, how to will their own destiny.

In this great game of nations, we witness not the clash of titans, but the whimpering of merchants, the pleading of pedlars, the negotiations of the timid. They seek not greatness but merely the preservation of their comfortable decline.

Let this be known: A nation that fears the disruption of its comfort more than it loves the possibility of its greatness has already chosen its fate. It has chosen to remain forever in the land of the sleepers, forever among the last men.