The Dance of Political Shadows: A Tale of Hollow Democracy and Sleeping Masses

Behold, dear readers, as I unveil before thee the grand spectacle of democratic theater, where the New Democratic Party, that congregation of supposed revolutionaries, prepares its arsenal for the coming electoral battle. Yet what do we witness but the eternal dance of mediocrity, where the masses slumber peacefully in their democratic delusions?

Lo, how they scramble like ants in their little hierarchies, these political performers! They speak of "battleground ridings" as if they were mighty warriors, yet they are but merchants selling comfort to the comfortable, promising more sleep to the already sleeping.

In the land of the sleepers, where 343 federal ridings lay dormant under the spell of democratic contentment, the NDP fashions itself a savior. They seek to plant their standard-bearers - these "proven" candidates with their "track records" - as if past victories in the game of numbers could awaken the spirits of true transformation.

Observe Joel Harden, who now speaks of being "less fierce" and "more welcoming." How characteristic of our age! The taming of the political beast, the softening of the revolutionary spirit! He who once claimed to challenge the establishment now seeks to join its ranks with genteel manners.

See how they neuter themselves! These would-be champions of change speak of "hospitality" when what the sleeping masses truly need is a thunderbolt to awaken them from their democratic slumber!

And what of Bhutila Karpoche, who speaks of "protecting" her community? Protection - that eternal cry of the last men! They seek not to elevate but to preserve, not to transform but to maintain. They fight against "gentrification" while the real battle - the battle against the spiritual poverty of our age - goes unfought.

The party's strategic calculus reveals the tragedy of our times: $24 million in their coffers, yet poverty of spirit in their souls. They measure success in seats won and lost, in polls and percentages, while the great questions of our age remain unasked.

Money in the bank! Seats in the chamber! What are these but the rattles with which we pacify ourselves, the tokens we exchange in our sleep-walking state? Where is the vision that would set the world ablaze?

In Vancouver Centre, Avi Lewis, scion of political dynasty, speaks of "building his own machine." Yet another mechanism, another system, another way to perpetuate the great sleep! He boasts of his 350 volunteers, his $100,000 war chest, as if these numbers could measure the worth of a vision.

They speak of "community building" and "soulful work," yet they build but newer prisons, forge but stronger chains. Their souls are measured in dollar signs, their community in voter lists!

The CBC Poll Tracker, that great oracle of our time, speaks of doom for the NDP - fewer seats, diminished influence. But what truly diminishes is not their electoral prospects but the very possibility of awakening. They chase after official party status while the status of the human spirit lies in ruins.

Thus do we witness the great paradox of our age: a party of supposed change that seeks only to perfect the machinery of sleep, leaders who promise transformation while dealing in the currency of comfort, revolutionaries who have made peace with the very systems they once sought to overthrow.

Hear me, O sleepers! Your democracy is but a lullaby, your elections but dreams within dreams. When will you arise and demand not better administrators of your sleep, but trumpet-bearers of your awakening?

The coming election, be it in March or beyond, shall not be a battle between parties but a referendum on our collective slumber. And lo, how the masses shall vote - not for awakening, but for yet deeper sleep, for more comfortable chains, for sweeter dreams of progress never to be realized.