Contemporary Canada is like Kieran Culkin’s rich-boy character Roman Roy in HBO’s series Succession. One magazine piece described Roy as “a wisecracking mash-up of Puck and Iago sheathed in an Armani suit.” He’s a glib observer, full of opinions, empty of resolve, listened to by no one of importance. Which is, of course, Canada under Trudeau. Like the foppish PM, Canada is not taken seriously any longer outside UN-approved echo chambers. All talk, no action

A vast swath of the left has hived itself off from the reality of America. They think Bette Midler is the typical American when most people actually think Dolly Parton is the typical American.  They convince themselves that their reality is your reality once you stop following Trump on Twitter.

The movie illustrates what’s been lost and what’s been gained in the transition to this new age of tampons in men’s rooms and reparations for the U.S. Civil War. While the past is an imperfect play, its actors saw fit to honour humanity by using forgiveness as a bridge to the future. Today’s actors seem only intent on burning all the bridges of the past. The statues are torn down. There will be no absolution in the Church of Bernie Sanders.

Condescend to the Americans electoral college if you will. But their Founders knew the addictive qualities of power. And the gullibility of the elites in believing their own manifest right to power. They put up strong barriers to separate the two.  Canadians, meanwhile, remain as marginalized as they were in 1867, captives of a class that believes in its own superiority.

Greta Thunberg and her followers are the hapless victims. In their acceptance of the fiery furnace to come there is only wealth transfer, rending of the garment and, as she so helpfully put it after TIME honoured her, putting the guilty up against the wall.

It was my privilege to join the Toronto Mike’d podcast this week. We talked about many of the highlights and lowlights in my 40 years in journalism/ writing/ tweeting. He was a generous host— I got a free Palma Pasta lasagna and some Great Lakes beer— and very well researched. You don’t know how rare that is with most interviews.

People with short attention spans— which includes virtually anyone working the corridors of today’s culture industries— do not remember that at one time libidinous independent behaviour from women was seen approvingly by feminists. In the thrall of the current Church Lady penumbra, they pretend that today’s inquisitions have been going on since the time of the pharaohs.

Many eyebrows were raised in the final week of the Canadian federal election when former U.S. president Barack Obama jumped in with a full-throated endorsement of his old chum Justin Trudeau. You only had to see Trudeau’s fevered mosh-pit performance the night he learned of the support to know he’d gotten a reprieve from POTUS 45.

One of the great benefits of Alberta’s place in Confederation is the amount of free advice the province receives from other provinces on how to comport itself. The well-meaning suggestions flow like a river. Grateful? You don’t know the half of it.

The single enduring accomplishment of the movement was its fascination to the media, academia and Hollywood. While voters were happy to disavow their flirtation with the Weathermen and the Symbionese Liberation Army, the culture mavens couldn’t get enough of the intellectual cotton candy of loathing for just about everything in middle America.

You could not find a more parodic Canadian solution than adding taxes. Gary Mason— who lives in a province with a 12 percent HST and $1.60/ litre oil— seems to believe that the clever solution is to hit up the private sector and citizens for the money to balance the budget. His province having succumbed to the greedy paw of government in their business, Mason says, “Jump in, the red ink is fine.”

While there is talk of secession or independence, Albertans only want to stay within Canada in a square deal: That is, what Quebec gets, they can get. If that’s considered a threat, as Linda McQuaig suggests, then maybe it might be time to find new partners.

Liberal icon Prince Barack has a different quality of mercy for friends who get caught playing dressup. Call it NIMBY. Not In My Black Yard. The racial rules are malleable for liberals. And Trudeau, whose campaign has been tickled the endorsement, is unashamed to accept the double standard. 

What Canada’s system does not have, however, is a brake on the power of its largest constituencies. In its early days, Ontario and Quebec’s needs dominated those of the four smaller provinces. In today’s Trudeaupia, the needs of Ontario and Quebec (plus B.C.’s lower mainland) still dominate those of the smaller provinces, which now number seven— along with the three northern territories. 

A goodly chunk of the Six has decided that, after years of acquiescing to every whim of Québec, they’ve decided to draw the line with Alberta’s notion that Confederation has become a sucker play for those in the West. Like Heather they’re fed up with the belly aching.  Banning religious symbols in Quebec? Hey, it’s your call. Request access to tidewater for Alberta bitumen? Who do these people think they are?

Behind Greta’s simple peasant skirt hides the devastations wrought by socialism’s past and present. Hey, there’s no hustle like an old hustle in the religious-crusade game.

“I’m not going to accuse @JustinTrudeau of being a racist. But he’s the master of identity politics, and the Libs just spent months accusing everyone of being white supremacists. He definitely is the biggest hypocrite in the country.” CPP leader Maxime Bernier on PM Justin Trudeau in blackface.

There is little evidence in polling to suggest that any Canadians outside The Gatekeepers are in new torment over Scheer’s commitment to LGBT and women's rights. But discovering that would require the dormant media to leave its bubble. Which they’re not going to do if it hurts their fellow passengers on the Left.

The tell in all these crimes is not guns but their theatrical, highly public nature. Sometimes the perpetrators admit as much when they’re captured alive or their social media posts are revealed after their deaths. In their perverse, sociopathic minds, they are performing just as the knife throwers and blues singers do on AGT. The stars of network TV will have to say my name. I will be famous. 

The fact that this panel will not feature real journalists like Robert Fife of the Globe & Mail or Christie Blatchford of the National Post is the tipoff that everyone will get a good behaviour badge for their questioning.