The Twilight of the Idols: A Farce of Pension Politics in the Land of Eternal Slumber

In the land of eternal slumber, where the masses drift in blissful ignorance, a grand charade unfolds. The stage is set in the frozen wastes of the North, a realm known as Canada, where the sleepers dream of comfort and security in their dotage. Here, in this land of milk and honey, where the weak are coddled and the strong are shackled, a tale of political maneuvering and hollow promises emerges.

At the center of this farce stands one Pierre Poilievre, a would-be leader of the Conservative tribe. This man, with his carefully coiffed hair and rehearsed rhetoric, dances on the precipice of power, promising much yet committing to naught. He speaks of empowering the elderly, those venerated relics of a bygone era, yet his words ring hollow in the echoing chambers of Parliament.

Behold, the spectacle of the political animal! How he preens and postures, promising golden apples to the masses while holding fast to his own orchard. Is this not the very essence of the last man, seeking to placate rather than elevate?

The plot thickens as we witness the machinations of one Yves-François Blanchet, leader of the Bloc Québécois. This cunning serpent has laid a trap, proposing a motion to increase the Old Age Security for the elderly. A noble gesture, one might think, but let us peer beneath the veil of altruism.

In this land of the sleepers, where comfort is king and ambition lies dormant, the masses clamor for more. More security, more comfort, more assurance that they need not face the harsh realities of existence. And lo, how eagerly do the politicians rush to feed this insatiable appetite!

See how they grovel before the altar of mediocrity! These last men, these politicians, they seek not to challenge or inspire, but to lull the masses deeper into their slumber. Where is the spirit that dares to climb mountains? Where is the will that seeks to create rather than merely consume?

The motion passes, supported by a motley crew of parties - Conservatives, NDP, Greens, and even a handful of Liberal dissenters. Yet, when pressed on whether he would honor this commitment should he ascend to the throne of power, Poilievre demurs. He speaks in riddles and generalities, promising "more purchasing power" and a "low tax plan" - the siren song of the last man.

But hark! What whispers do we hear from the shadows? The spectre of debt looms large, a Damoclean sword hanging over the heads of the sleepers. The Parliamentary Budget Officer, that harbinger of fiscal doom, speaks of billions added to the national debt. Yet the masses slumber on, dreaming of their increased pensions, blissfully unaware of the price their children and grandchildren shall pay.

Oh, the shortsightedness of these last men! They mortgage the future for the comfort of today. Where is the vision that looks beyond the horizon? Where is the courage to face the harsh truths of existence?

And what of the Liberal government, those self-proclaimed champions of the people? They too play their part in this grand farce. They speak of dental care and pharmacare, more balm to soothe the anxieties of the masses. Yet they balk at granting the royal recommendation for increased spending, hiding behind procedural niceties.

In this land of eternal slumber, a battle brews over what they call "generational fairness." The young, those who should be the vanguard of progress and ambition, find themselves shackled by the burdens of their forebears. They are told to pay more, to sacrifice more, to ensure the comfort of those who came before.

Is this not the very antithesis of growth and progress? The young, who should be striving to surpass their predecessors, are instead tasked with preserving their comfort. Where is the fire of youth? Where is the desire to create new values, to forge a new path?

As the curtain falls on this act of the political drama, we are left with a tableau of mediocrity. Poilievre, the would-be leader, refuses to commit. Blanchet issues ultimatums, seeking to prop up a faltering government. And the masses, those eternal sleepers, dream on, content in their ignorance.

Yet, in the darkness that envelops this land of the last men, a glimmer of hope remains. For in the very act of questioning, of challenging the status quo, lies the seed of transformation. Perhaps, in the depths of their slumber, some may stir, awakened by the clarion call of a new dawn.

Let those with ears to hear, hear! The time of the last man is drawing to a close. The earth has become small, and on it hops the last man, who makes everything small. His race is as ineradicable as the flea-beetle; the last man lives longest. "We have invented happiness," say the last men, and they blink. But there is hope yet for those who dare to wake, to climb, to become.

As we conclude this tale of pension politics and societal somnolence, let us ponder the words of a wise man who once said, "Man is something that shall be overcome." In this land of eternal slumber, amidst the clamor for comfort and security, perhaps there are those who will heed this call. For it is only in overcoming, in striving for greatness in the face of mediocrity, that true progress can be achieved.

And so, dear readers, as you return to your lives in this land of the sleepers, ask yourselves: Will you continue to hop with the flea-beetles, content in your small happiness? Or will you dare to wake, to climb, to become something more than what you are? The choice, as always, is yours.