Sunday, July 17, 2022

A Fool and his Hair


Remember the good old days, when climate change wasn’t causing toddlers to have heart attacks?

Boy howdy, am I sick of lies and death. You?

I can’t handle Las Vegas for more than about 48 hours. I’m actually a fairly decent gambler, inasmuch as the moment I’m up, I walk away from the table and spend the rest of the trip at the Bellagio buffet or watching a Cirque du Soleil show (I’ve yet to be chosen as a volunteer from the audience; they always pick the guy wearing a harness).

Rather, I get tired of being crowd-controlled. Every aspect of the place, from the direction of the hallways to the angle of the air conditioners, to the ugliness of the carpets is engineered to make you move and behave as some dopey marketing expert would prefer. The constant manipulation gnaws at my soul.

This is how it feels to live in the Current Year.

Everything is a story, a narrative, a strictly enforced catechism of nonsense that no one really believes but everyone is obliged to repeat. You see this, you’re living it, and you are likely frustrated by it, too. If you immediately understood the first line of this column, you know of which I speak.

Discussion of lies, death, and stupidity leads us, of course, to Justin Trudeau. As you may have seen, Justin has cut off all his hair, like some chick getting over a breakup.

In terms of immutable characteristics, people cannot help the way they look. This is something we should be taught in childhood and, if we develop human empathy, come to appreciate as adults. As a general rule, if you are going to comment on a person’s appearance, it ought to be a glowing compliment.

But then, there are choices. If you decide to get a tattoo across your forehead that reads “Don’t F*ck with Mr. Zero” or a trauma haircut like Justin’s, well – game on.

Something is up with that guy (something is always up with that guy, amirite?) and it augurs well for us.

As Perceval said to King Arthur in the underrated 1981 epic, Excalibur: “You and the land are one.” Similarly, Justin personifies the Globalist-WEF-Davos-Tower-of-Babel Brigade (this is a cousin to Ben Shapiro’s observation that Justin is what would happen if the song “Imagine” took human form and then ate a Tide Pod).

Whatever is eating at Justin, it isn’t so much about electoral prospects. I am on record as predicting he has pranced through his last race. Corrupted as elections might be across the West, no amount of snow-fortification could shore up enough votes to return Justin to power if Canadians get another chance to pass judgment on him.

Besides, Justin has entered into a pact with Canada’s millionaire socialists, the New Democratic Party, to keep him in power until 2025. For what it’s worth, I have also predicted this grotesque partnership will not last that long. The human toll of being so hated as Justin and his commie enablers will prove too much. The haircut, I think, is part of that.

Someone whose name I forget, but whom I have often plagiarized, averred that the next World War would be between citizens and their own governments. Across Europe, North America, and even Asia, one sees how this might be correct. And the people are growing stronger.

Did the fall of Sri Lanka cause Justin to slump into the salon chair and say, “Gimme the Pee-wee Herman”?

It’s possible. These secret-handshake wankjobs who run everything talk to each other, and they are privy to inside information. Some fronts are going well for them – they’re able to lock up freedom protestors like Tamara Lich and Pat King, as well as anyone who so much as changed planes at Dulles on January 6, while releasing not a single name from Ghislaine Maxwell’s client list – whereas others are not (Italy and the Netherlands come to mind).

The Death Sniffles and attendant injection campaign did not go as they had hoped. Indeed, when all comes to light, the fallout may see some of our overlords ascending scaffolds.

In every case, the momentum is in one direction. Literally no sane person alive today is developing greater trust in government, central planning, corporate media, and globalist bureaucracy. There is a long struggle ahead, but people are waking up.

But let us return, as we must, to Justin’s coiffure. They say the eyes are the window to the soul but, for Justin, it may be his hair.

I have learned, particularly in the past two years, that there is no point trying to convince people who do not see what you do. Perhaps you have come to the same conclusion. It’s the reason I don’t write as much as I used to, and why I certainly don’t argue in person.

If, for example, people look at the faces of Chuck Schumer, Nancy Pelosi, Bill Gates, Joe Biden, et al., and don’t immediately see satanic malice and demonic confusion, there is not much for us to say to each other about it. Yes, each of those named is a child of God, with hope while they breathe, yada-yada but, in practical terms, they wield outsized power and do not wish us well.

I used to ask regarding Hillary Clinton – could you ever imagine her committing a selfless act of kindness for another human being? Anything, really, but something done purely out of love, with no ulterior motive or manipulation behind it? Me neither.

Since Justin first flounced onto the scene, I’ve maintained there are two types of Canadians – those who find him embarrassing, and those who do not. It is an unbridgeable gap.

Even before he opens his mouth to talk about rearranging space and time, or to wonder aloud where the white goes when the snow melts, his visage has always appealed to me like one of those from the parade of horribles listed above.

That combination of imperiousness and stupidity, arrogance and spite, were written clear as day across his face, at least to my looking. Now, with his shimmy-mane shorn, I wonder if others see it, too.

Moreover, perhaps he wanted it that way. People tell you who they are. They want you to know, even – and perhaps especially – if it’s an ugly tale.

For years, I never paid much attention to the rumors that Justin was Fidel Castro’s son. It seemed like the sort of sensationalist, mean-spirited thing folks say about famous people they don’t like. Besides which, no one can help who their parents are.

But now, with the jawline and nose and such made more prominent, of COURSE he’s Fidel, Jr. (not to mention, Justin’s demonstrated penchant for unleashing war measures upon his own people, seizing bank accounts, and locking up political opponents).

As stated, elections across the formerly free world are hideously compromised (if this seems outrageous to you, insert the Willy Wonka meme here whilst you explain to me how a Democratic presidential candidate loses Florida by 4, Ohio by 8, yet wins…Georgia, while shattering Barack Obama’s vote record by over 10 million).

But as someone who does not want to have to tap the sign, much less get out of my chair, I’d rather find a peaceful way out of all this, and voting is better than nothing, albeit insufficient.

In the United States, you can see they are trying to get the covid band back together in time to fortify this November’s midterms, but it seems doubtful that will work. Besides, it is a bigger lift to manipulate individual district races than to swipe a presidential election, which requires only a few broken pipes and late-night drop-offs in a handful of cities (and sorry, just one more word on that – not since George H. W. Bushwhacked Mike “the Tank” Dukakis, beyond the margin of caterwaul, have the Democrats conceded defeat or failed to screech about some kinda fraud, so I’m disinclined to hear that it’s untoward to question whether Sniffy Joe managed 81 million votes).

All that said, lotta good it will do. If you think Speaker Kevin McCarthy will fix everything, you’re probably due for a booster.

Canada offers a bit more hope (or despondency, if you happen to be Justin). “Cometh the hour, cometh Pierre” is a line I keep trying to make happen.

As a final prediction, in response to questions precisely no one asked me, Pierre Poilievre will win the Conservative Party leadership in a walk, then prevail in the subsequent election in a landslide. This is splendid.

One of the immutable laws of nature is that when somebody solid appears on our side, people who think they know something insist that candidate needs to be more "moderate." This is almost always wrong (just ask President Romney, or Prime Ministers Scheer and O’Toole). In cities particularly, where even people who think they are right-wing walk around with liberal-left assumptions, whether they know it or not, the condition is acute.

Pierre is not one to fall for it. He is not oleaginous like Romney, or insipid like Scheer and O’Toole and, most important, he understands this moment. It is not just a Canadian thing, as I think he comprehends, but a worldwide contest.

To be clear, I don’t work for Pierre, and I have not spoken to him in over a decade. This column does not put its faith in princes. But the fact that he gets it – what you and I and so many others are seeing and living right now – is a breath of fresh air.

When he says he will make Canada the freest country in the world, that’s Jerry Maguire “hello” right there. Yes, he will do infuriating things, he will be wrong and make mistakes. But how long has it been since we’ve had a shot at a leader who speaks of freedom and human flourishing, rather than what you must do and what you can’t have?

If you were one of those who only loves people in groups of a million or more, whose reason for being is derived from controlling others, would you be feeling hopeful right now? Or would the awakening of the population, their voices rising to demand liberty, darken your spirit?

It might be enough to make you shave your head.

Theo Caldwell just wanted to be left alone. Contact him at

Sunday, March 27, 2022

Justin Trudeau is Arranging his Exit


You and I look at Justin Trudeau and see an obvious imbecile. Be advised, however, this is not how he sees himself.

Even before he was elected to anything, Justin babbled on about being born into greatness by virtue of his parentage (discuss among yourselves), and this was cringeworthy enough. But the development of his absurd, messianic self-image since practically flinging himself onto the casket at the funeral of his official father has been embarrassing for us all.

A handy guideline is to suppose that whatever opinion normal people hold on pretty much anything, Justin’s is the exact opposite, and this includes his reflection in the mirror.

All of this is stated not merely as gratuitous insult of Canada’s most ridiculous Prime Minister (although there is that), but to propose that much of the analysis of the recent Liberal-NDP coalition deal misses the point.

Commentators are aghast at the idea of suffering under Justin until 2025, and this is perfectly understandable. A single day being governed by that lisping nincompoop is one too many. But if one considers the pact in the context of Justin’s child-like narcissism, a different narrative emerges.

Unlike you, Justin is a Man of Destiny, born on Christmas Day to lead a nation of benighted snow-monkeys to the carbon-neutral Promised Land. And he will be doggoned if he is going to let you, or anyone else, tell him what to do or when to leave the office that is his birthright.

One suspects that after trampling citizens with horses, confiscating bank accounts, and generally irritating everyone all these years, Justin is unlikely to win another national election. Yes, there will always be lunatics with food allergies and problem glasses who vote Liberal no matter what (I live amongst them, and can see some walking their hypoallergenic dogs whilst wearing masks in the snow as I type) but, as I have witnessed several times with my own beautiful eyes, blue like the sea after a storm, after two or three election wins, Liberal awfulness becomes too much and Canadians vote the other way.

Perhaps Liberal polling or qualitative analysis augurs this. Maybe Gerald Butts broke out the finger puppets to explain it to the Great Man himself. Whatever the case, Justin’s deal with the NDP is not about him staying, it’s about him leaving.

By ensuring the NDP will support him in all things – taking a de facto arrangement we all understood and making it de jure – Justin has secured for himself a graceful exit.

Graceful in his estimation, that is. To the rest of us, Justin’s departure will seem as unforced as when Michael Scott played Sarah McLachlan on his handheld tape recorder whilst swanning out of The Office.

Most important, Justin will not be humiliated, brought down by a no-confidence motion or, more the horror, rejected by the voters themselves. Remember, always, that Justin’s career is a personal passion play and we are the captive audience. It is as though we are at a school talent show and the doors have been locked so parents cannot leave after their own child has performed.

My guess is that Justin’s walk in the snow will come sooner than 2025, after which we will be subjected to a miserable but mercifully brief interregnum under Chrystia Freeland, a twitchy and bizarre woman clearly in need of an exorcist, whereupon the Liberals will be shellacked in the next election.

While I am talking through my toque, notwithstanding all the media ballyhoo, I suspect the Conservative leadership race is a foregone conclusion: Cometh the hour, cometh Pierre. I do not know Pierre Poilievre well, but his simple message seems precisely what normal people have been pining for. To wit, when he is elected, Canada will be the freest country in the world. As for those desperate to make this a horserace, I propose that the Conservatives did not go to the trouble of ousting one pasty, non-entity of a leader only to replace him with another (Jean Charest, call your office).

In any case, before Justin departs, he is still positioned to do a variety of damage. Apart from my own theory that the NDP deal facilitates Justin’s movie star exit, kayaking off into the sunset, it has been proposed by others that it enables him to accomplish something substantial before he goes.

Here, our contemplation turns dark and, if nothing else of this prose resonates with you, please take heed of this part. If, as I deeply fear, Justin intends to implement a Central Bank Digital Currency (CBDC), we must oppose it until each one of us lies choking in his own blood upon the snow.

Others have suggested Justin wants some national pharma program or, who knows, a law that French on cereal boxes in Vancouver must be even larger (“Now with more Accents Aigus!”) and all that can be undone by a saner government.

But if, as has been proposed by globalists aplenty, including the Blofelds at the World Economic Forum, Justin aims to replace dollars with a currency issued and controlled by the central bank, digitized and fully traceable, there is no going back.

Your money will not be your own, it will be issued from a single, government source, can be spent only on approved items, and can be frozen at will. We caught a glimpse of this when Justin, Freeland, et al. tracked and froze the accounts of Canadians who gave as little as 20 dollars to the truckers’ protests.

Did you note the relish with which they did this? And didn’t you think it odd how quickly they pivoted to Bitcoin, rolling out new rules for exchanges and wallets across the country?

Whether or not a Digital Currency is their plan between now and 2025, have you any doubt that these people would delight in such a system?

This is, as stated, the darkest scenario and I outline it here to add my voice to the many others warning against it. Of the foreseeable dangers before us, a Digital Currency is the one from which a free country cannot recover, and we must be vigilant.

To conclude where we began, however, and to light a candle rather than curse the darkness, the key is that Justin is leaving. Having him in our face until 2025 is the cap on our misery.

One expects that the human toll of being so despised will shorten the timeline. Justin was lambasted, to his face, by members of the European Parliament on his recent trip and I do not believe he was expecting that. Likewise, the condemnation of the Liberal-NDP deal from people of all political persuasions must have come as a surprise to Justin and his enablers. Reason being, statists and central planners such as they are not very good at anticipating how normal people think.

The most of which they are capable are awkward gestures in the direction of normal human behaviour. They are like someone speaking a language they have only learned phonetically. For this reason, they could not anticipate that Justin would become a laughingstock for traipsing around India like Peter Sellers in The Party.

So Justin will depart, on his terms as he understands them. He will not allow even the appearance that anyone else dictated or influenced his actions. This is why, even as open-air prisons like Australia and New Zealand remove their Covid restrictions, formerly free Canadians cannot board a plane, train, bus, or boat, or even leave or enter their own country unless they receive Justin’s decreed injections. To grant that liberty now, so soon after the Ottawa imbroglio, would give the impression that disobedient protesters made a difference.

“Beware an old man in a hurry” goes the maxim. As we keep a cautious eye on the calendar and Justin’s final actions, Canadians might adopt a similar adage: “Beware a spoiled brat crafting his exit.”

Theo Caldwell just wanted to be left alone. Contact him at

Saturday, February 19, 2022

Abolish Justin Trudeau

Ordinarily, when one inveighs against a Western political leader, the prose is filled with qualifications regarding established norms, liberal democracy, and the dignity of office. This is not that column.

Justin Trudeau must be removed from his position, prosecuted, and imprisoned, or else forced to flee to some country that will grant him asylum (Cuba, perhaps?). His legacy must be uprooted, the earth salted, and his children should feel compelled to change their name.

The same goes for Justin’s grotesque sidekick, cackling goblin Chrystia Freeland, who has evinced such twitchy, demonic delight in detailing the harms she will visit on citizens for their defiance, one expects she would make a fine Deputy Prime Minister of Hell itself.

This is not proposed out of anger – although there is that – but from a bone-deep understanding that justice must be done. If we, as Canadians, allow a leader to abuse our trust and persons as Trudeau has done, and permit those excesses to go unpunished, how can we, as a nation, go forward with dignity?

(Simpsons scholars will recall the zookeeper’s admonition when Ned Flanders fell into the baboon enclosure: “If they don't kill the intruder, it's really bad for their society.”)

Therefore, Justin and his minions, along with all that they represent, must be defenestrated through the Overton Window of acceptable conduct, without the benefit of it being open.

Faceless government stormtroopers advance upon peaceful, joyous protestors, running them down with police horses, bashing bodies and cracking skulls in the snow while, in climate-controlled offices, state enforcers and their impish aides in the press confiscate the savings and crush the livelihoods of ordinary people.

There are not two legitimate sides to this. There is right and there is wrong and now, no matter your politics before, you have no choice but to see it.

Some will choose evil, or at least refuse to acknowledge it. Justin, et al., for all their moral hideousness, are still human, as are those who support them. You may have such people in your life. Self-satisfied city-dwellers with hyphenated, made-up jobs are especially prone to justifying wickedness if it keeps them in comfort.

But what man intends for evil, God uses for good, and the events of the past few days – indeed, the past two years – have removed the veil of so much that is wrong.

It was troublesome enough when Justin was an embarrassing, feckless pusscake. As Ben Shapiro famously observed, “Justin Trudeau is what would happen if the song ‘Imagine’ took human form and then ate a Tide Pod.”

But many sensed that, beneath the yoga-posing, hair-shimmying vapidity, Justin is a bad joke with a dark side.

The Left always creates the world they want for people. Their plans always come to police batons, guns, horses and tanks, line-ups for food, despair and bleakness. Always.

Those of us who spent our lives on the “right” – an anachronistic and useless term that here denotes we who maintain traditional beliefs in basic normalcy – are inured to being unpersoned and labeled istophobes for defying, or even hesitating to celebrate, whatever collectivist cause was foisted upon us.

Others may have wondered why we went to the trouble, rather than just get with the program. It is because we realized that behind all the heart-hands and rainbows were the police batons, bank runs and food shortages.

One can know this from even a cursory reading of history, or by hearing it from the heart, if one chooses to listen.

God creates each one of us in perfect equilibrium between good and evil with the freedom, and responsibility, to choose. It is this capacity to discern that makes us human. At every turn, the Left seeks to remove that choice from us, thereby robbing us of our humanity.

We all shoulder some small part of society – on this, they and we agree – and no one else can carry it for us. Where our paths diverge, however, is the Left invariably decides there is One True Path that we all must follow, and it will be enforced.

Besides that this robs others of their human agency, it is also a lie. The human desire for power over others is perhaps our strongest instinct and, once indulged, it is insatiable. Rather than resist it, the Left makes it their god, and that – not some cuddly codswallop about the greater good – is their motivation.

If you seek some proof in this proximate crisis, consider that there has been precious little talk of health or covid or characterizing of the Ottawa protests as a “super-spreader” event since this began. Reason being, this is not about people’s welfare and never was. The only crime they condemn is disobedience.

It was inspiring to see protesters speaking of love and forgiveness to faceless police who would shortly run them down. Previous to that, the will and logistics that brought the Freedom Convoy together were a wonder to behold. These are people with character and skills, distinct from the puffy conformists who oppose them.

What clear-thinking person would not rather be governed by 300 truckers than the members of Canada’s parliament?

There was not a stitch of destruction or violence – indeed, Ottawa’s streets were safer than ever – until Justin moved in. Here were people protesting in peace, bravely calling upon the best within them to shoulder their portion of the world as they saw fit. Lest we forget, their principal request was to be left alone to do just that.

Here, the Left hastens to screech, “You can’t be left alone to harm others!” Once again, this is their tic to collectivize all things, to steer us onto the One True Path while abjuring those who stray. In this case, their professed, universal remedy is that all must receive injections and carry digital proof of compliance. But as always, that is only their excuse. Not even those who listen to CBC unironically can believe this is about health any longer.

We who saw our countrymen trampled in the snow must also see those responsible brought to justice. Formerly free people made to fear that their fortunes may be seized and their livelihoods destroyed must have those fears assuaged, and receive the true promise that they will be free again. Consequently, Justin and those who have enabled him must be held accountable, through a process more rigourous and thoroughgoing than any that has been brought to bear on any leader in our nation’s history.

People often shrug that the Left is never punished for their excesses. Case in point, consider the kindly treatment – kneeling included – of any number of leftist agitators; and these generally DO engage in the violence and destruction of which the Freedom Convoy was absurdly accused.

But not this time. No, this time it must be different. Because if we allow this to stand – besides that Justin has revealed himself to be a maple syrup Idi Amin without the cannibalism (watch this space) – we will be unworthy to look our children in the eyes again.

Theo Caldwell just wanted to be left alone. Contact him at

Thursday, October 21, 2021

Brandon Didn't Kill Himself


“Let’s Go, Brandon” is the new “Epstein didn’t kill himself.” Each is creole for normal people to convey that the Approved Story is an obvious lie.

Having watched the video several times, I genuinely cannot tell if that NBC reporter misheard the crowd wishing crude intimacy upon Joe Biden, or if she was attempting to edit reality like some Baghdad Brandon.

But really, does it matter?

Truth has no place in their world. Whether through their cloistered benightedness or enforced falsehoods, those who mean to rule us only see, and tolerate, their side of the story.

Perhaps like you, I had not heard much about Jeffrey Epstein until after his death. I knew vaguely of a wealthy guy with a demonic face who had the goods on many important people. One might be forgiven for such a tale blending in with all the others in this day and age.

But when, as America’s highest-profile prisoner, he turned up dead of apparent suicide, I felt my intelligence being insulted.

The Official Version posits that the jailer fell asleep – which only happens in cartoons, incidentally – whereupon Epstein activated his FastPass to Hell.

Right from the start, we see we’re in trouble with the story. We cannot even address the question of suicide or murder when we begin with a snoring Barney Fife. If the latter, did the assassin send in the Pirates of the Caribbean dog to snatch the keys and make his entrance?

And what of the surveillance footage? Free citizens cannot order a cheese sandwich without being videotaped from every angle, but the guy supposedly capable of bringing down Gates, Roberts, the Clintons, et al. (if only) was somehow out of frame?

Consequently, millions of us who otherwise would have left unremarked the untimely departure of a dreadful person seized upon “Epstein didn’t kill himself” as shorthand for, “You people are such awful liars.”

It’s not just that they lie to us, it’s that they give us zero credit for discernment.

The past couple years in particular, they have stacked one falsehood upon another, like Richard Dreyfuss building a mountain of mashed potatoes.

However you voted, the 2020 election was an obvious absurdity with a plainly manufactured result. You may despise Donald Trump and rejoice that he is gone (for now, anyway), but to assert that Joe Biden lost Florida and Ohio by landslides, along with 18 of 19 bellwether districts and 15 House seats, yet somehow won Georgia, Arizona, and overcame a 750,000-vote deficit in Pennsylvania in the dead of night, shattering Barack Obama’s national vote total record, is to demean us both.

People know this, even without quantitative deep dives and earth-shaking MyPillow revelations. Precisely because it is so obvious, thou canst not say it for fear of cancellation or othering.

But you know what you can say? “Let’s Go, Brandon!”

Of course, the ubiquitous, euphemistic chant is not entirely, or even primarily, about the election farce. It’s about all of it.

Indeed, if Joe Biden, who has been running for everything but cover his entire life, had kept a low profile, we may have let him sneak onto the roster of presidents with little more than a roll of our eyes. But the country-snatching fraud last November was merely a precursor to the “Your body, my choice” policy of the powers that be. Biden himself is clearly a cipher for whatever truly nasty Epstein-types are running things.

This brings us, of course, to the Church of Covid, which is a Notre Dame of nonsense.

Once again, people plainly see that stories don’t add up. Whether it’s death rates, the conflation of “cases” and “infection,” the shifting definitions of “vaccine,” or the mounting anecdotal evidence that the sacred injections are doing as much or more harm to those in their orbit than the disease, the official narrative is a jumble that cannot be reconciled with itself, much less withstand outside scrutiny.

And no one talks about healing or making people feel better anymore, do they? All is control, submit, obey.

When asked by fearful friends whether they will throw up barriers to interstate travel, or go door-to-door, rounding up the Covid non-compliant and putting them in camps, I reply that there is no limit to what they will do, if they are allowed. Even those responsible do not appreciate the insatiable appetite for power they have indulged.

From Moses to Milton to modern times, we are taught that man’s compulsion to rule is the nature of Hell itself.

A number of Internet commenters have proposed that the next World War will be between people and their own governments. Upon reading this, the penny dropped for me. I have nothing whatsoever against the people of China, Russia, Iran, what-have-you, and I hope and expect the feeling is mutual (until they get to know me, anyway).

I do not doubt, however, that Joe Biden and the ghastly people round about him – some publicly known, some not – wish me ill.

Wherever you find yourself reading this – the United States, Canada, Australia, the United Kingdom – do you see any limit to your leaders’ ambitions? Have they not violated the most intimate realms of society and bodily autonomy, all the while making clear they will not stop until forced to do so?

If, as those denizens of the interwebs have averred, the next global conflict is between we the people and our would-be rulers, perhaps “Let’s Go, Brandon!” will be recalled like the cheerful songs at the start of the Great War, with impromptu football matches between the trenches and promises to be home by Christmas 1914.

If you are anything like me, you have never harmed another person in your life, nor would you dream of doing so. But like any tolerant, patient, handsome man, I have my limits. We all have people and things that we love, and spaces that belong to us alone. Liars and tyrants trespass them at their peril.

For now, mockery of our Naked Emperors (possible band name) in the shared language of the oppressed gives us a reason to smile. Those have been few on the ground for some time, and it reminds us we are not alone. We must never stop taunting them until our throats are sore and our ribs ache from laughter.

Let’s Go Brandon, indeed.

Theo Caldwell just wanted to be left alone. Contact him at

Friday, August 20, 2021

Liberals Will Win if They Can, Steal if They Must

When a situation does not make sense, it is often because you are missing something. A piece of the puzzle has slipped under the sofa and, without it, the picture is incomplete.

Canadians find themselves in such a circumstance now, struggling to discern why Justin Trudeau's Liberals have forced an election at this moment. Polls do not seem especially in their favour, there is no proximate issue that demands ratification by the voters, and recent health concerns have permitted them to wield their minority government as though it were a majority anyway.

So why now?

Some have suggested that there is dreadful, scandalous news on the horizon and the Liberals wish to get an election out of the way beforehand. But this misunderstands the nature of partisan politics. Liberals and Democrats are not undone by scandal as right-leaning politicians are. Ted Kennedy killed a girl and never lost an election.

Others suggest the Liberals' own polling shows them in a stronger position than we might suspect. This seems unlikely. One of the very few things on which Canadians currently agree is that no one wants an election right now, and we all know this one is a Liberal initiative.

I rise to propose an alternate theory: They plan to cheat.

To claim there is chicanery in electoral politics is as banal as observing that birds go tweet; to say it of left-wing operatives is even moreso. Theirs is a godless religion, wherein the cause is all and truth is, at best, a means to an end. With minds focused ever on power, perhaps they see an opportunity in this moment that more honest people might overlook.

When I first bandied this inchoate theory about, people seemed to agree in principle that something seemed off, but none of us could quite figure what it was. Alas, that missing puzzle piece.

Then came news that, while about 50,000 vote-by-mail ballots factored into the last federal election, around 5 million are anticipated this time around. This opens all kinds of space for mischief. Moreover, there is precedent that is nearby and recent.

Canada and the United States have much in common. At the moment, both countries are run by imbeciles who are managed by goblins. Both countries have also permitted their societal norms, including the way in which elections are run, to be upended by the recent health concern noted above.

For purposes of time and clarity, I do not wish to dwell on the recent US presidential election, except to say that the official interpretation, which we are obliged to repeat under threat of social media excommunication, is laughable on its face. While it is possible, theoretically, that Joe Biden won fair and square, the narrative of votes-by-mail, broken water pipes, and sleepy poll-workers in six different cities needing to call it a night and stop counting is absurd.

Whatever happened, we can agree that the circumvention of election norms to accommodate public health was a boon to the current occupant of the White House.

Those who know Canada appreciate that a smug, harmless tic of its people is to insist that whatever injustices or enormities occur in the United States could never happen here. Americans have no idea they are being slighted, and the uncontested win gives Canadians a jolt of pride.

In this case, whatever weirdness happened in the US election is unlikely to play out the same in Canada, but the will to power of our left-wing class is the same as theirs. And that will finds a way.

Five million votes go a long way in Canada. Allocated cleverly, away from prying eyes and in feasible numbers, they could sway any number of seats to win the day. And the mail-in ballots are perhaps not the only means the Liberals have in mind to secure the result.

The one and only time I ran for federal office, more than twenty years ago, Liberal poll-watchers in some precincts shouldered their way in such that they were hand-counting the ballots themselves. It made no difference to the result of our race. In most Toronto ridings, Conservatives could run the Risen Christ and finish no better than third.

But such behaviour, and perceived entitlement to power, is how they roll.

Not being a Liberal, I do not spend my days contemplating how I can attain control over my fellow man. Consequently, the lack of further suggestions as to how they might cheat is a failure of imagination on my part. I can, however, propose how it might look on Election Day and thereafter.

Ridings that seem lost to the Liberals may suddenly swing back into the fold. Of course, this sort of thing happens in every election, but the number, timing, and placement will seem strange. Mailed ballots, late counting, and convenient, peculiar delays could break in one direction; too frequent to be natural, but too subtle to be proved.

In the weeks following a surprise Liberal victory, those raising questions about the election and its result will be labeled “divisive” and “conspiracy theorists.” They will be told to “move on” and we “have a country to run” and “you lost, get over it.”

The opposition robbed of victory – Conservatives, most likely – would be less than no help in the effort, reverting to form as affable losers and attacking their own supporters for being impolite.

I have known Erin O’Toole for about a dozen years. Outside of personal friendship, I can think of no reason to vote for him. On the issues that keep me up at night – freedom and personal sovereignty – he is either mute, or repeats some lighter version of the Liberals’ policy. As they say, leftists want socialism now, while conservatives want it in two weeks.

But what he does have going for him – and I cannot stress this enough – is he is not Justin Trudeau. Observing the prime minister’s domineering conduct the past 18 months, while in possession only of minority status, one shudders to imagine what totalitarian horrors he would unleash with a 4-year majority mandate.

It would be delightful if all this worry were for naught – a waste of my time to write, and yours to read – and we awake to a new, non-Liberal government, beyond the margin of mischief. Like millions of Canadians, nothing would make me happier than to have Justin Trudeau out of my face forever.

But from the moment I first saw him mincing onto the public stage, I sensed that Justin, like some inoperable tumor, was a condition I would have to live with for the rest of my days.

Maybe the Liberals have made a massive mistake in triggering this election. Could they be that dumb? Justin manifestly is, but the ghouls around him are not.

Theo Caldwell is a dual Canadian-American citizen who wishes the governments of both countries would stay out of his kitchen. Contact him at

Wednesday, August 18, 2021

Jabber's Remorse

People want to feel good about choices they have made, particularly if they are irreversible. This helps explain a mistake that I and others made in assuming people would, in the main, migrate from accepting Covid madness to embracing freedom.

That hypothesis did not account for the effect of these shots.

Many, if not most, of the people in my orbit who have allowed themselves to be injected have done so for reasons other than health. Perhaps their employer forced them to do it, or they wish to travel, or they want to be sure they can attend some Bay City Rollers reunion concert.

Maybe it was just good, old-fashioned peer pressure.

Whatever the reason, these are not unintelligent or illiterate people (in most cases) and so they have been aware for some time that, outside of a specific and identifiable cohort, Covid is not a mortal threat. This has been the finding of official sources the world over, yet for some reason people still get huffy when you bring it up.

To wit, unless you are elderly, obese, or have some serious underlying condition, Covid almost certainly will not kill you. Moreover, you may have had it and recovered without ever knowing it.

Why, then, inject one’s self with some brand spanking new concoction, the long-term effects of which are unknowable, and for which the short-term effects – again, according to official sources that will nonetheless ruin a pleasant evening to cite – are not good?

And why demand that everyone on the planet do as you have done?

Are they Eve, making damn sure Adam eats that apple, too? It is an honest question, difficult to answer, as the personality and perspective shift in the recently injected makes them unreliable interlocutors.

For example, a neighbor of mine was, until recently, all over social media, complaining about this or that demented Covid dance we have all been obliged to perform. You know the sort of thing – you can no longer just go to the bakery; you have to call ahead, wait in the parking lot, be signaled from the doorway, run and touch the hood of the assistant manager’s Thunderbird with your elbow, hop on one foot and recite the Gettysburg Address before you can receive your marble rye, which is fired at you from a stadium t-shirt cannon.

She was funny, despite her exasperation, and clear-eyed in seeing this madness for what it is. Then she got the shot.

Her stated reason for doing so had nothing to do with health. She is planning a vacation and did not want to have to quarantine on arrival. That was it. And it was enough to make her a different person.

Suddenly, every bit of insanity was for our safety, and anyone who did not follow her example was an “anti-vaxxer.” It was as though her former self did not exist and, most alarmingly, she in no way acknowledged the person she once was or the beliefs she previously held.

I am struggling with judging people who have taken these injections, not because I know what the effects will be (I do not, and neither do you, whoever you are) but because of their reasons for doing so and the way they are acting towards everyone else.

It is not a question of intelligence or knowledge, since the former is relative and the latter is impossible at this early stage. But the about-faces and insults coming from the newly jabbed are worrisome.

Many people are smarter than I am. You may well be one of them. But the people I see on my Facebook feed calling everyone else idiots are…not.

This is one of those instances, like finance and the Middle East, where those with an interest want you to believe it is oh-so-complicated and you could never, ever understand it. But in reality, when reduced to its essence and stripped of jargon, the concept is rather simple. The questions become bite-sized, even binary.

For example, as alluded to above, how can people be certain about the long-term effects of these injections when they have only been available for a matter of months? Again, it is an honest question and, if at all possible, I would like an answer more substantive than, “Shut up, bigot!”

How about politicians and media figures who, when one person was President of the United States, loudly proclaimed they would never accept these rushed, suspect injections but, now that someone else has the job, insist you must accept the jab or you can never go to Arby’s again? (Deal, by the way)

As the kids say, what’s up with that?

You don’t need a lab coat to see the discrepancy here, nor does it make you a Q-Anon nutcase to wonder aloud. Anyone with a calendar and a television can spot the inconsistencies.

The clanging illogic and head-patting maternalism were evident when the Centers for Disease Control announced in December 2020 that the injections were perfectly safe for pregnant women. How could they possibly know that? With one administration on its way out and one more friendly to the bureaucracy on the way in, had that changed things?

Those of us asking these questions are not trying to be contentious for its own sake. This is a discussion we feel is worth having but the Hyde-turn and invective coming from the other side make that increasingly difficult.

We have seen this before. Covid is the new “climate change.” Questioning conventional wisdom is met with accusations, insults, and demands to know where you matriculated.

But despite the coming and going of every drop-dead doomsday foretold by Al Gore, Prince Charles, and the Mayan Calendar, we remain well above sea-level.

Set questions aside for the moment, then, and let us agree, if we can, that there is much we simply do not know. Perhaps that explains some of the panic and hostility.

My body-snatched neighbor was, in her telling, something of a party girl in her youth. She laughs off concerns about the injections by saying she’s taken a lot of naughty things in her life. But, as she surely knows, this is not like getting a dicey batch of edibles.

For good or ill, this is for life. In her case, as in many others, she accepted a bargain in exchange for getting her freedoms back. But with variants, boosters, and shifting goalposts the world over, and no talk of normalcy returning, the deal seems to be off.

She is left, then, with this mystery concoction within her for the rest of her days. That may be a good thing. It may give her telepathic superpowers, for all we know. But it may also end badly, and for what? Ostensibly, for protection from a disease which, in her case, was as likely to cause death as a freak folding-couch accident (no one ever thinks it will happen to them).

All of this is before we get to the more recent questions; the ones that will most definitely get you kicked out of a family gathering (although that may not be a problem soon; want to bet that those of us who celebrate Christmas will have to do so with the curtains closed again this year?).

What about these “fully vaxxed” hospitalizations in the UK, Israel, Iceland, and elsewhere? Are these shots weakening natural immunity, especially in people previously infected with Covid? When the injected encounter the virus naturally, will it hit them harder, as happened in animal testing? What role have the injections played in facilitating these lettered variants? And what about these side effects that, despite Zuckerberg's best efforts, are being reported in large numbers? (I lead an active lifestyle, so blindness, amputation, heart failure and death would put a crimp in my weekend plans.)

I do not have these answers, nor do I pretend to. I am asking in good faith.

Before I accept an irreversible treatment, on pain of having to order my groceries online, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for straight answers.

Theo Caldwell just wanted to be left alone. Contact him at

Monday, August 16, 2021

All is Lost (Maybe)


In his seminal book on screenwriting, Save the Cat, Blake Snyder posits that near the end of a good script, the protagonist should arrive at a moment where all seems lost. Our hero’s ambitions are not only dashed, but he is worse off now than when the movie started.

Ideally, per Snyder, this is followed by a dark night of the soul, during which the hero must face up to his failures. Suddenly, help arrives, often in the form of friends the protagonist made or something he learned earlier in the film, leading to a triumphant and satisfying finale.

Snyder cites examples as eclectic as Star Wars, Elf, Miss Congeniality and “Christ on the cross” to illustrate the power of that penultimate moment when death and darkness are all around.

For me, as for most educated people, the ideal cinematic All is Lost instance comes when Daniel LaRusso is THIS close to forfeiting the All Valley Karate Championship but convinces Mr. Miyagi to do that clap-hands healing move on his leg, then remembers the crane technique he had seen him practicing on the beach. The science is settled.

Many have supposed that what we are living through feels like a movie, or perhaps a Black Mirror episode, as it is so bleak and unreal. Whether or not the Lizard People are huddled in some writers’ workshop in Davos, typing out our future with their tongues and tails, those of us who value freedom could be forgiven for believing that, at this moment, All is indeed Lost.

As I type (with fingers), governments and corporations the world over are imposing barriers to travel, employment, commerce, and daily life. The ostensible purpose of these infringements is to force people to accept injections, and then carry physical and digital proof that they have done so.

To anyone capable of seeing more than one move ahead, it is the second part of that proposition that is most troubling. Let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that the contents of these syringes are the best possible thing one could have coursing through one’s veins. Let us further suppose that the disease they are meant to mitigate makes smallpox look like a Plantar Wart.

This remedy – if one can call it that – will render every human being traceable, trackable, and permitted to function only at the sufferance of official authority. Moreover, as with all Covid measures nowadays, no sunset date or endgame is mentioned or contemplated. “15 Days to Flatten the Curve” sounds as anachronistic and truthful as “Remember the Maine!”

I maintain a Facebook account largely for purposes of anthropological study. It allows me to observe the meanderings of the dimmest people from my past, many of whom I forgot I knew. Without exception, they are whole hog for this idea, describing anyone who differs or seeks delay in the vilest possible terms, without stooping to consider what reasons we may have.

An especially gobsmacking recent example is a photo of those old, yellow vaccination cards we had for school, captioned with, “You’ve had a Vaccine Passport your whole life, so what’s the big deal?”

Now, my cohort and I are half a century into this material experience. Even the most meticulous hoarders among us would be hard-pressed to put their hands on that old thing. But that is hardly the point, is it? That document was a record of decades-old inoculations against deadly and crippling diseases, required for admission to a few, specific places (public school, summer camp, etc.).

What is now being proposed is a comprehensive, inescapable, digital monitor that tracks your every move, and is a requirement for the essentials of daily life. So yes, I suppose I did have a yellow card at some point, but I did not need to carry it as a condition of buying food or leaving my home.

My acquaintances championing this have never known privation in the least degree and so they see freedom as some right-wing fetish. They do not know it is the air they breathe but, like oxygen, they will miss it right quick.

Again, the problem is not a scientific disagreement. They aver that everyone should accept these injections – and maybe that is true, or maybe not – but the means they advocate are both worse and larger than the proximate threat itself. They are so blinded by their will to power that they cannot, or will not, contemplate the consequences.

So as this prison is erected around us, applauded with rancid enthusiasm by the dribbling idiots we have known, is All truly Lost?

I think not.

For one thing, the government and corporate overlords mandating this madness are not behaving as though they are winning. They seem panicked. Their worry is not over the disease (is there anyone remaining whose primary fear is Covid itself?), but they are in a race against time.

I believe official vaccination numbers about as much as I believe that pipe burst in Atlanta. Even so, as noted, there are many people eager to be injected and recorded and monitored. But a significant minority, or more, of free-born populations are and will remain unwilling to be jabbed. Even among those who are willing, or have been, many see through to the problem I am describing. In Italy, for example, many citizens have burned their vaccination passes in solidarity with the freedom-minded.

Doubtless, the top people pushing this have held dreadful meetings, possibly by Zoom, peopled by hollow-chested men in problem glasses, insisting they must advance this agenda “as one” (they always uphold uniformity as a virtue). If havens are allowed to exist – businesses or jurisdictions that do not require the tracking of human activity – the scheme perishes.

It is often noted that if these injections were so splendid, there would be no need to threaten and cajole. Similarly, if their goodness were self-evident, and towering majorities of populations were on board, as official numbers suggest, there would be no need to race toward totalitarianism at ludicrous speed.

Further, they really don’t understand us at all. By “us,” I mean not only freedom-loving people, but humans generally. Everything they are proposing, from the perpetual wearing of masks to scheduled injections, digitally policed, is so unnatural that it can only be imposed by overwhelming and sustained force. Now, overwhelming and sustained force is just about their favorite thing, but even they can’t keep it up forever.

We can outlast them. This will be easier for some than for others, as they continue to foreclose aspects of normal life to the non-compliant. I am not the most advanced prepper-survivalist in the world but, as Cliff Clavin once advised, I do keep an inflatable raft and a couple cans of tuna fish in the trunk of my car. Your move, jackwagons.

So, what have we learned, and what friends have we made, such that we may endure this All is Lost moment, through the dark teatime of the soul, and arrive at ultimate victory?

Significantly, we have seen that everything they tell us is untrue. This applies to mortality and vaccination rates, therapies and, most important, the bargains they offer to buy back our freedom.

You may wish to advise the zealous converts in your orbit who announce they are “fully vaxxed” that they are nothing of the kind. With third and fourth boosters already forthcoming, to be mandated as a condition of participation in society, they will discover, to their sorrow, that there is no such thing as “fully vaxxed” in this world and we all fall short of the grace of Fauci.

We have further learned, as alluded to above, that they cannot accommodate or understand non-conformity. To them, freedom is just another word for racist. Ridicule, in particular, scrambles their circuits, and we must up our mockery game. This one is easy for me; as a born smart-alec with no friends, I have plenty to say and nothing to lose.

Beyond wise-ass remarks and scalding prose, I have wondered what I can offer to this struggle. If it is a war, where is my unit and how will I look in the uniform? For now, I think the strongest move is simply to remain firm, to hold out, to say no. The way they are behaving now ought not to be rewarded with compliance.

All the frantic energy is being expended on their side. Let them punch themselves out like Clubber Lang, and then we’ll see where we are.

Then there are the friends we’ve met along the way, who help us to overcome. All over the world, people are finding each other, seeing the truth, and giving one another the courage to stay strong.

Despite the best efforts of Zuckerberg, @Jack, and the gargoyles at Google, people are coming together, sharing their stories, and letting others know they are not alone. The ongoing protests across Europe, hundreds of thousands strong, are just one example. More of this, please.

Taken together, all that we have learned and those we have befriended make for a potent combination. As Mr. Miyagi presaged before Daniel-san delivered the kick to the face that changed history: “If do right, no can defense.”

Theo Caldwell just wanted to be left alone. Contact him at