Saturday, 20 April 2013

Tabernac! Not another Turdo! Reflections on Canada's Latest Limousine Liberal

Tabernac! Not another Turdo! Reflections on Canada's Latest Limousine Liberal
by Kevin Annett
 A clearly Disloyal Canadian

"All I can say to all those bleeding hearts who don't like to see soldiers with guns on the streets is, go ahead and bleed"                                                                                                                                                    - Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, October 1970


Pierre Trudeau was a real asshole, and not just because he brought Canadians the War Measures Act. He loved to hurt people.

Just ask his wife Maggie, who used to get slapped around by him in public under the watchful eye of his RCMP bodyguards. Or my uncle George, a Liberal party corporate bag man in Toronto, who witnessed El Turdo punch Margaret unconscious at the Chateau Laurier one evening.

And now, just imagine! Their cute little kid Justin gets to step into his papa's brogans and become Canada's next Prime Minister, as newly crowned head of the government-in-waiting, the Liberal Party. Mon Dieu!

Never having overthrown or outgrown political absolutism, we Canadians see nothing wrong with dynastic successions: especially of assholes. So now another Trudeau gets to run our sunken ship of state with the kind of flashy smile and good looks that qualifies for substance here in the Great White North.

For those of you who harbor such un-Canadian traits as an historical memory, let's turn back the clock a few decades to get a better grasp of the latest joy ride we're being led on by the back room boys who have coiffed and prepared this nobody named Justin Trudeau to inherit the Prime Ministership of Canada.

Back in 1970 amidst what sycophants like to call the era of "Trudeaumania" (ouch), the separatist Parti Quebecois started gaining ground in Quebec - no surprise there, really, when you consider the corrupt priest-run provincial governments up to then. Eventually, the Pequistes got as much as 35% of the vote for outright separation (gasp) from our lovely old Canada.

Horrified, we Anglos tried to imagine why the Frenchies would want to end  our beautiful relationship together that went back over three hundred years to all those glorious throat-slitting, bayonet-gouging days.

Actually, if you're like me, some part of you no doubt secretly hankered to see the fleur de lys waving by itself over Montreal and a million Quebecers lined up on the Ottawa river waving their bare derrieres in the direction of Les Cochons d'Anglais who they will have outsmarted once again, eh! Those silly English persons whose mothers are elderberry bushes and fathers are 'amsters, n'est ce pas?

But over in Westmount, some of the Nabobs got genuinely panicked when Rene Levesque and his Pequistes began climbing in the polls, and they asked our Boys in Red (the Mounties, dummy) to do something about those separatist troublemakers, maintenant, et vite, alors!

So low and behold, Canada got made-to-order terrorism, just like in Boston these days!

Early in 1970, a tiny band of convenient mercenaries sprinkled with paid provocateurs calling themselves the FLQ (Front pour la Liberation du Quebec) showed up out of nowhere and kidnapped a Quebec cabinet minister, Pierre Laporte, and a Limey diplomat named James Cross. Somebody shot Laporte through the head and stuffed his body in the trunk of a car - the guy did have strong Montreal Mafia connections, but of course that was never mentioned by anybody - and then a well crafted hell broke loose.

Enter that paragon of liberal mythology, Justin's Dad Pierre (Jesuit educated, just like Adolf Hitler), who promptly called out the troops, literally, while trashing all those bleeding heart wimps who worried about such silly things as civil liberties and a fair trial.

Welcome to the War Measures Act.

Pierre Trudeau (the name means Water Hole, actually) had sat out World War Two, after all, like the pampered rich boy he was. I guess he doubted his manhood or something because of that, hence all the wife beating. So voila! In came the Canadian army and out went civil liberties and the rule of law faster than Pierre could say "Look at my Big Dick!", just to deal with twelve FLQ guys carrying pop guns.

Hundreds of us got arrested and jailed without trial after that, and not just in Quebec. That particular reign of state terror went on for months.

The whole mess was not without its funnier aspects. The RCMP, not known for their artistic sensibilities or their brain cells, once gathered up a Montreal "subversive's" entire collection of art books on Cubism because ... you know, Cuba. Cubism. Duh.

Well, that's the Arsee Empee for you. Their top officials are getting sued by their own female officers nowadays for sexual harassment and on the job rape. Go figure.

So who says Canada is boring?  And now we get Justin.

But let's be fair. We're Fair Play Canadians, after all. Maybe the lad isn't the asshole his Papa was.

Justin may be an insult to our intelligence, sashaying in like he has to accept a crown granted him solely by his name, but hell! Let's give the boy a chance, eh? Maybe he'll somehow grow some cojones and tell the Americans and the World Bank and the Bay street boys to keep their grubbies off our remaining jobs and sovereignty and natural resources, and pull our troops out of Afghanistan and do something besides follow orders.

But I'm not holding my breath. Trusting politicians gets you nowhere.
Justin's Dad taught me that, actually, one spring day in 1972.

Me and my high school buddy Mike Helmer and fifty other protestors showed up then at a Vancouver mall where Pierre and Maggie Trudeau were doing some stupid photo op. Our plan was to thrust Mike forward, since he spoke French and agreed to the mission, from where he could yell at The Turdo an appropriately radical expletive, like "Capitalists out of government!", or something.

I trusted Mike Helmer, even though he had asked me to go to bed with him. But when his big moment came, and he stood in front of Prime Minister Water Hole, all Mike yelled was,

"When are we going to get a French language TV station out here?!".

All our radical mob could do was stare dumbfounded at that moron Helmer.

I think Mike did it just to piss me off because I wouldn't get it on with him. But my erstwhile friend had  made his point, as did that fake "liberal" Trudeau and as does every other politician on the planet: namely, don't ever, ever rely on what people say they're going to do.

Or more to the point, as the Good Book says, "Put not they faith in princes".

I wish Justin Trudeau well, as Justin. But he should learn from his own history - and stay the hell away from Ottawa.


Kevin Daniel Annett is a Recovering Canadian who was conceived on a lovely spring morning somewhere west of the Lakehead in the back of a green chevy. Fleeing the prairies against his better judgement to a placid west coast life against which he has ceaselessly rebelled, Kevin divides his time between writing, occupying churches, paint ball warfare and conspiring to overthrow the state.

Having worked as a waiter, mail sorter, steel fitter, professional student and non-conforming clergyman, Rev Kev knows that there's nothing that beats working better than not working. He is presently composing a new syllabus of the mating habits of catholic clergymen and criminally convicted popes.

Kev is presently dividing his time between Nanaimo, the Cannes Film Festival, the Vatican lavatories and the Stansted Airport Immigration Prison. But mostly he's planning his eventual retirement somewhere on the Prairies under perfect skies, where he will someday lie decaying in and adding to the good soil of the true Republic of Kanata.

See the evidence of Genocide in Canada and other crimes against the innocent at and at the websites of The International Tribunal into Crimes of Church and State at and .

An International, multi-lingual ITCCS site can be found at:

The complete Common Law Court proceedings of Genocide in Canada are found at: - Common Law Court Proceedings - Genocide in Canada  (Part One) - 1 hr. 46 mins. - Common Law Court Proceedings - Genocide in Canada  (Part Two) - 1 hr. 47 mins. - Final Court Verdict and Sentencing - 8 mins. 30 secs. - Authorizations and Endorsements of ITCCS/Kevin Annett by indigenous eyewitnesses - 10 mins.

Kevin Annett is a Nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize (2013). Messages for him can be left at  250-591-4573  (Canada) or  386-323-5774  (USA).

"I gave Kevin Annett his Indian name, Eagle Strong Voice, in 2004 when I adopted him into our Anishinabe Nation. He carries that name proudly because he is doing the job he was sent to do, to tell his people of their wrongs. He speaks strongly and with truth. He speaks for our stolen and murdered children. I ask everyone to listen to him and welcome him."
Chief Louis Daniels - Whispers Wind
Elder, Crane Clan, Anishinabe Nation, Winnipeg, Manitoba


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