The Parliament of Mediocrity: A Dance of Shadows and Gold

Lo, behold the grand theater of democratic mediocrity, where the weak-willed servants of comfort gather in their hallowed chambers of compromise! The Canadian Parliament, that monument to the herd-mentality, now faces a decisive moment as $21.6 billion hangs in the balance, like ripe fruit ready to fall into waiting mouths.

Behold how they scurry about their chambers like mice in a granary, these politicians who dare not dream beyond their next meal! They speak of billions as though they were merely counting sheep, yet know not the weight of a single great thought!

In this land of the eternal sleepers, where the masses slumber beneath the warm blanket of bureaucratic procedure, the Liberal government extends its suppliant hands, begging for gold to feed their programs. The First Nations child services, asylum seekers, and maritime patrol aircraft - all noble causes for those who cannot see beyond the horizon of immediate comfort!

The Conservative opposition, led by their champion Poilievre, presents itself as the guardian of fiscal virtue, yet what virtue lies in mere obstruction? They too are caught in the web of mediocrity, fighting shadows with shadows.

See how they dance their parliamentary waltz! One step forward, two steps back, while the music of mediocrity plays on. They speak of fentanyl and housing, yet dare not grasp the deeper malady that afflicts their souls - the comfort-seeking that breeds weakness!

The Speaker, that arbiter of procedural somnolence, has declared that the great machinery of state must continue its grinding. But what grinds forth from these mills? Naught but the finest powder of democratic compromise, suitable for the consumption of the last men who want their small pleasures and their small pains, their small politics and their small solutions.

The NDP, those self-proclaimed champions of the common man, stand ready to support this great distribution of wealth, their eyes fixed upon the dental care program - a perfect emblem of the last man's obsession with comfort and security. They seek not to elevate humanity but to ensure its comfortable descent into mediocrity.

Watch as they measure progress in dollars and cents, these accountants of the spirit! They know the price of everything and the value of nothing, least of all the value of creating beyond oneself!

And what of the masses, the sleeping people who neither know nor care about the great drama unfolding in their name? They slumber peacefully, dreaming small dreams of small comforts, while their representatives engage in this elaborate pantomime of governance. The land of the sleepers stretches far and wide, from sea to shining sea, its people content with their daily bread and circuses.

The deadline approaches like a storm on the horizon, yet none dare speak of transformation, of elevation, of the possibility that lies beyond mere monetary solutions. They speak instead of procedures, of rules, of the mechanical operation of democracy - as if these were ends in themselves rather than mere tools for something greater.

Let it be known that when the final vote is cast, when the billions are dispensed or withheld, nothing of true significance will have changed. The last men will continue their small lives, seeking their small pleasures, avoiding their small pains, while the great wheel of mediocrity continues its eternal turning.

Verily, I say unto you: This is not a vote about money, but a referendum on the spirit of a nation. And in their contentment with mere material solutions, they reveal themselves as unworthy of anything greater. The true tragedy is not in the outcome of this vote, but in the fact that none dare dream beyond it.