I tried my hardest to listen to Prime Minister Harper’s pep rally for the celebrating Party workers in Ottawa today (broadcast live on CTV Newsworld, which was shockingly nice of them inasmuch as this wasn’t a bunch of celebrating liberals. OK they were, but less so than the Liberals). They were celebrating something I was happy to help celebrate: the two year anniversary of the Conservative Party being sworn-in. I’d done my damnedest to help that proud and happy day in 2006 come to pass, pro bono. I drank a whole bottle of (Spanish) champagne with my wife that night, and we raised a brand new Canadian flag on the front of our house, drunk with joy.
But I’m getting tired of hearing him or any Canadian politicians talk. Ever, about anything, ever. I may have to stop. I’m dead serious.
“Écoutez” me for a sec while I explain: Apparently, despite the sort of conservative sort of election victory over the Quebec-appeasing Liberals, the leader of the land still can’t get through more than a couple of sentences—sometimes even one sentence—without switching back and forth between English and French. It’s become some sort of a bizarre journey through this weird, political-correctness nutville. A space alien listening in would wonder what drug we’re all high on.
The opiate is “Trudeau”. I’d tell you you’re supposed to smoke it, but actually it blows smoke right up your butt instead. (Liberals are all about the state doing it for you instead of you taking personal responsibility).
As a result of his Orwellian dictate called “official bilingualism”, all politicians dutifully switch back and forth between two languages like they’re in some sort of a bizarre and extraordinarily annoying pinball game where the ball is language. I don’t do pinball. I don’t smoke crack either. Most people don’t. No matter. They all carry on that way.
The liberals’ now fully adopted multi-cult madness is asininity enough. But this Trudeau and French-speaker-appeasement is a totally abnormal and stupid way to live. We all know better by now, surely.
Here’s part of my detox plan for my country: French is lovely, but don’t continue to waste my time speaking to me in both French and English alternately, at the same time. Make it all-English, all the time. I already waste large chunks of time listening to another “official” Canadian language — “socialist bullcrap” — which is the chosen language of the socialists of Layton and all of his you’ve got to be kidding party tribe, most of the Liberal Party, and of course of the entire staff of their sacred CBC division. I’m totally fluent in that language, simply as a matter of self-preservation and as a sound national security measure. We should all learn bullcrap for those reasons. Stand up for Canada, and all that. Btu don’t alternate between the two (bullcrap and English) in the same speech.
Don’t attempt to make me listen to some weird switch-back French/English language ping-pong (or is that le ping de la pong?) covered over by some lousy translator. I shouldn’t need a translator, as a native in my own country, to listen to my own nation’s leader spout off about the glories of my country. Adding to the nuttiness, often the translator is a women ludicrously speaking English for a clearly male person, or vice versa. Of course that ties in perfectly with the liberal-left’s bizarre “gender-neutral”, androgynist world view. But again, I don’t swing that way. I like women to be women, men to be men, and I like my language to be English. I am a conservative and I voted that way. I didn’t vote two or three times for two or three parties so they could share.
When it’s the leader of my country speaking to me — especially when he has good things to say — well then dammit they really, really need to speak to me and all of us in our language: plain English. For the good of our country. Just English. And if they’re a man, we should hear a man’s voice. Speaking like a man, if possible, with all due respect to the sexless crusaders of the androgynist left.
And I mean get it all out, all in a row. Later, after talking to me in my language — English — you go and knock yourself out. Go crazy and speak French, bullcrap, or some other language, all day long for all I care. Go nuts. Les noix. I don’t give a merde. Spend the rest of the day saying the same thing all over again, in every other language too, for all I care. At least I can get on with my day and not waste any more time than I’ve already wasted.
I’m tired of playing this game. I’m tired of this politically-correct language pinball insanity. It is truly bizarre. It’s plain crazy. This whole thing is getting more and more preposterous.
My country is Canada, and my language is English. Speak to me in English.
Last edited February 2014.
PTBC was founded by Mr. Johannesen in 2000.
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