An Open Letter to Justin Trudeau

April 23, 2013

Multiple Pages
An Open Letter to Justin Trudeau

Dear Justin Trudeau,

(Assuming that IS your legitimate surname. Since you’ve evidently inherited your mother’s looks AND brains, your real father might not be Canada’s 15th Prime Minister but rather one of your mom’s multiple boyfriends—Ted Kennedy or, God help us, Ronnie Wood. Shall we arrange a DNA test—or a driving exam—to determine paternity?)

Anyhow, belated congratulations on winning the leadership of the Liberal Party of Canada.

Of course, that’s a bit like the old quiz-show joke: First prize is one week in Philadelphia, and second prize is two weeks in Philadelphia. Except in your case, first prize is actually third prize: the leadership of the once mighty “natural governing party of Canada,” now shriveled down to a measly 35 parliamentary seats out of 308.

So you’re not even the Leader of the Official Opposition. You’re the lead singer for the band that opens for the band that opens for, well, The Rolling Stones, let’s say.

Still, this somewhat dubious “accomplishment” is the greatest achievement in your forty-one-year-old life, and like all your other “accomplishments,” it was mostly possible because you have a famous last name and nice hair. You didn’t earn your new post after years of hard, thankless work and sacrifice. You won a fixed genetic lottery.

“You live in the moral equivalent of your father’s basement.”

At your age, your father, Pierre—I’ll play along—had a Canadian law degree and a Master’s from Harvard, had founded a hugely influential political journal, and then served as Minister of Justice under Lester B. Pearson.

You, on the other hand, are a drama teacher.

A substitute drama teacher.

Your resume makes Barack Obama’s look like Herbert Hoover’s.

As I’ve said many times: You live in the moral equivalent of your father’s basement.

Of course, Canada, like much of the West, is currently overrun with carefully coiffed, pleasant-enough, basement-dwelling forty-one-year-old “men” with useless degrees.

Another reason you were chosen to lead, I suspect.

The ruling Conservative Party wasted no time after your victory in pushing out a faintly amusing attack ad reminding voters of just a few of your many gaffes: your objection to the word “barbaric” to describe honor killings; your comment that Quebecers are “superior” to other Canadians. (They left out the bit where you cursed out another member of Parliament—then called on him to apologize.)

They needn’t have bothered, really. As one commentator put it, you’re your own attack ad, a kind of rhetorical suicide bomber.

Which brings us to your latest bungle.

Just a couple of hours after the attack, the state broadcaster wound up a softball interview by asking you about the Boston Marathon bombings and how you would respond if you were PM.

“People have died, many people are injured,” the CBC’s Peter Mansbridge said to you. “You’re the Canadian prime minister, what do you do?”

As I’m sure you’d prefer to forget, you replied, “[W]e have to look at the root causes.”

You added:

But there is no question that this happened because there is someone who feels completely excluded, completely at war with innocents, at war with a society. And our approach has to be, “OK, where do those tensions come from?”

There is a need for security and response and being proactive and making sure that we have information, but we also need to make sure that as we go forward we don’t emphasize a culture of fear and mistrust, because that ends up marginalizing even further people who are already, you know, feeling like they are enemies of society rather than people who have hope for the future and faith that we can work together and succeed.

So here’s why I’m writing you, Justin:

I feel “completely excluded” in the multilingual, multicultural, “peacekeeping” and “Participaction” Canada your father made.

I was born into a “culture of fear and mistrust” in which (certain) ethnic groups are welcomed into the country in hundreds of thousands and are courted for votes—while their bigoted outbursts and blatant violations of the law are mostly ignored.

As a lowly white “old stock” Canadian, however—one who doesn’t have a famous last name or people throwing money at me just for leaving the house—I’m an “enemy of society.”

If I post an anti-immigrant “poem” on a website, I can face years of litigation.

Some of my opinions were still considered mainstream just a few years ago. They are now illegal. I didn’t even get to vote on that.

The police will strip-search me if my child draws a picture of a gun, but Indians can hold residential neighborhoods hostage for years with impunity.

The computer I’m writing this on doesn’t even belong to me, at least according to that Charter your father cooked up with his pals. They left out anything about “property rights” and “due process” on purpose.

Like true freedom of speech, I guess they figured such niceties were “American concepts” our powerful elites don’t have to “value.”

As you can see, I have a whole lot of “tensions.”

I’m “marginalized.”

And since it’s obvious that—despite or even because of your many irrefutable flaws—you’re going to be Prime Minister one day, I don’t have a lot of “hope for the future.”

My question to you is this, Justin:

What do I get to blow up?

Image of Canadian flag courtesy of Shutterstock

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