It’s summertime and as the ghost of Bradley Nowell puts it, the livin’s eazy!
Well sort of eazy. I’m trying to shake off what’s been bringing me down so I can enjoy the weather, the women (my partner and daughter), and the weed (whatever’s in the garden).
Things are getting fretful in my neighbourhood as we continue to navigate unchartered waters as a growing community on an epic mission to blaze trails seldom seen but oft-imagined.
I’m choosing to trust in the Way and the dharma that shows the Way.
I watched July’s voluptuous moon rise over the Northumberland Strait last week. Then two mornings later I left my tent at daybreak to have a piss. I nearly missed the sight of a teensy weensy crook of sunshine appearing on the sea-perched horizon before me. In minutes this solar sickle became an irresistible nectarine levitating in the house of the rising sun. A good omen, to be sure.
Watching my daughter dash around on the Acadian sands at low-tide was something that brought me so much joy. I’m moved just thinking about it. “Crab! Crab!” she exclaimed from the nearest sandbar. She learned to take heed of the recessed blobs of jellyfish wedged in the sand, invertebrates left for dead by the withdrawing tide that shall return again with its salty salvation.
A couple more getaways are in the offing for my family and I, thankfully.
Each of my five summers on the homestead has revolved around labour and the division of labour. This summer is an exception, and damn that feels good. I took up this lifestyle to help distance myself from the banal “life-as-labour” philosophy so widely adopted by debtors of the Industrial Society.
Transnational tech cartels and intel agencies have been spying on us for years.
Most people don’t actually seem to care much about that kinda stuff. So be it. Thankfully, those of us who think otherwise do have some options.
Knowing that these intrusions not only continue to grow but are in fact being gradually legalized around the world compels me to say a few things about homegrown cybersecurity and privacy/data protection. [This is a treat for me because I do not live a very technosexy life].
Unlike other articles related to the topic of privacy and cybersec, I am not crying “hacker!” Yes, independent hackers exist, and they like to snatch anything of value to sell on the darkweb. But I write today from the understanding that intelligence agencies, big tech, and clandestine contractors are a far greater threat to dimwitted users like you and I than the “lone wolf” in her basement trying to penetrate your stupid macbook to ogle your petty banking information.
For example, this past winter the Communications Security Establishment (CSE), sister agency to Canada’s CSIS, confessed to tracking 33 million Canadians (pretty well the entire population) through their cell phones.
Much to my chagrin this is not a new revelation. That shit’s been happening for years. Like in 2015, for example. Even recently Google and its subsidiary, YouTube, were fined a record $170 million dollars for allegedly collecting data from children without parental consent. Unsurprisingly it is not the first time these depraved organizations have been accused of/caught spying on kids.
It would take a good deal of time for me to document the long, long list of degenerate activity participated in by the Big Five (Microsoft, Alphabet, Apple, Meta, Amazon), but it wouldn’t be necessary in order to show how these companies and its affiliates have become a cancer to a free society.
Thankfully we can share some strategy to help insulate one another from the metastasis of Big Tech and surveillance capitalism.
My first suggestion would be to purge all digital devices and internet use from your life. This is literally the most effective way to preserve your privacy and protect your data. Sadly, this is an unthinkable course of action for the vast majority of us despite the fact that very few individuals needed to bother with anything digital a mere 15 years ago.
Assuming this isn’t an option for 95% of us, ditching your smartphone would be a less radical one.
[The non-smartphone market is on the rise again, folks, so you can pick one up online for a good price.]
Smartphones are surveillance devices, plain and simple. They siphon our attention, distort our understanding of the world, and create unhealthy dependencies. No phone is best, but a more “analog” device is better than the vampiric and absurdly priced trash in stores now.
Next is the computer.
I’ll hazard a guess that if you own a computer, you’re either using an Apple operating system or a Microsoft operating system. Both of these multinational conglomerates are definitely spying on you, collecting your data, and selling it to all sorts of buyers—advertisers, departments of defence, and other seedy partners both foreign and domestic.
Try a Linux-based operating system instead, preferably one with good security checks and features.
If more privacy-security is what you want, there are operating systems available that fit in a thumb drive as small as 4GB in volume. It’s kept physically separate from your hard drive, and when ejected all content gets erased.
You’ll probably want a Virtual Private Network (VPN) too.
This re-routes your IP address (a geolocation marker) through a remote network somewhere else in the world.
I used to think VPN’s were a money-grab. Part of me still does, but after learning a little more about their purpose and a little bit about how they work, I’d err on the side of caution and use one.
Here’s a major tip. Cut all ties with “social media”. It’s a suggestion that cannot be overstated. There is very little that is “social” about social media. It’s actually a misnomer. It is literally a social simulation product (SSP) controlled by vulture capitalists, monitored by data collectors, and inhabited by all sorts of spooks and bots. The more involved we get with SSPs, the more privacy we waive, and thus the more vulnerable and manipulable we become in the long run.
Onion routing is another popular privacy tool, a method that uses layered encryption for anonymous communication online.
The Tor Project is the flagship service provider in this field. A good deal of reading is recommended before utilizing the Tor Network.
Search engines such as MetaGer, Gibiru, and Startpage are good alternatives to Bing, Google, and Yahoo-based engines.
I’m no expert, but so many tools become available to us once we’re willing to learn a little about what’s out there.
I conclude: Without you knowing it, technocrats, censors, and other establishment stooges are now working overtime to construct a digital prison-system for you and your loved ones.
Like Huxley wrote, “People will come to love their oppression, to adore the technologies that undo their capacities to think.” And what you may come to see as a progressive and convenient existence in an techno-industrial environment, will in fact resemble something of a ‘smart’ gulag.
Thankfully, for those of us who haven’t resigned to such a fate, a brighter path awaits.
I found this poem in Volume IV of The New Farmer’s Almanac (2019). It touched me deeply.
Though my own circumstances and that of the poet’s differ greatly, I can no less relate to the spirit of the author’s wish: To kick the bucket in a free land. It’s just so beautiful to imagine.
F.E.W. Harper was a poet, teacher, and abolitionist of African-American descent (1825-1911).
In my last post I weighed in on ideas like argumentation, dispute, and opinion.
I really love to explore that subject-matter, especially when it’s free of academic jargon or influence. Though I often think about and discuss language with close friends—how to navigate the aether of ideas and its treacherous airspace—I don’t write all too much about it.
Because there is a good deal more to say about the present day condition of public discourse and how we communicate thoughts and ideas to one another, and because thought and ideas are the very bedrock of our behaviour and decision-making, I’m obliged to expand on my last post.
Never before in my life have I been more compelled to share the knowledge I have of thinking, speaking, and doing.
In my ten years of contributing to this blog I don’t think I’ve ever written a “part two,” so I’m psyched. Let’s have at it.
The 18th century English poet Lord Byron said the following. “Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.”
Here is my central premise. Modern man is going through a period of social, psychological, ethical, and spiritual decay, mainly because he’s losing/lost his capacity to reason.
Again, reason is defined as the power of the mind to think, understand, and form judgments by a process of logic + what is right, practical, or possible; common sense.
Logic is a big idea too. It is defined as “the quality of being justifiable by reason.”
Things like logic and reason are incredibly unfashionable nowadays. Not sure if you’ve noticed…
Instead, I give you the holy Assumption, and I don’t mean the Roman Catholic doctrine of the same name, despite the parallels.
assumption: “a thing that is accepted as true or as certain to happen, without proof or evidence.”
An assumption can be a very problematic thorn in our thinking.
I was born into a society that loves to bathe in assumption.
A straightforward example is the attitude Canadians have toward popular media, particularly “news” agencies.
If, say, the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) or Global News Inc. publishes a piece, most people will—and I use the generality “most people” here not as an assumption but as an inference—either outright accept its report as factual or at the very least give its report the benefit of the doubt in terms of truthfulness. It’s a foolish assumption to make, but an all too common one made, and made without applying reason.
We all make assumptions. It just helps to be conscious of them in one’s self and in others.
Hold up, gracious thinker. Do I have a kicker for you.
Reason can be sidestepped. But how? I’m no cognitive guru, but two things immediately come to mind.
One. Trust. Trust is defined as a firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something.
Trust given to someone or some thing is a powerful gesture. We do it all the time as a matter of faith.
Trust is a positive quality based on love. Trusting someone or some group for being honest, transparent, etc. seems wise and good-natured, but placing trust in those whose motives are questionable or whose integrity is lacking is ill-advised.
Misplaced trust is problematic and incredibly widespread among the people of the world. As institutions, multinationals, and governments around the world continue to haemorrhage credibility, trust will flow elsewhere.
I’m praying we choose carefully about where to place this newly reclaimed trust.
Two. Fear. Ever try reasoning with a fearful person? Tread carefully…
When we are overcome with fear, which is to say, an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, harm, or loss, our ability to understand and to think clearly can turn to shit.
[Also worth mentioning that anxiety and worry are products of fear]
However, fear is an emotion that can be channelled with the right effort.
If channelled in a balanced way, fear can help supercharge our reason. A developed sense of reason can even help us detect when our fear is justified enough to take decisive action.
Superstition, delusion, terrible insecurity, and uncontrollable emotion are just some of the features that become prominent in those whose ability to reason has been impaired, undeveloped, subordinated by fear or distorted by a misplacement of trust.
For those of you egg-heads that spend far too much time learning, unlearning, and relearning, here’s a post especially for you!
Okay, I’ll admit this writing is for me. Not entirely for me because I can’t keep it to myself. It would do a disservice to everyone who has ever tried to work through a disagreement with others.
In my life I’ve experienced a good deal of dispute. During such hoopla I have noticed patterns of thought and speech in people.
As I waltz and stumble my way through the cacophony of a linguistic life, I will take a moment to emphasize something important that I’ve learned from my disputes with others.
Things could get a bit heady, but I trust someone will take something from it.
To begin, I ask, what is an argument?
Most people might imagine an argument meaning: “an exchange of diverging or opposite views, typically a heated or angry one.”
This leaves me wondering, how does one clear up this kind of heated exchange?
Like so many other commonly used English words, other definitions of “argument” are also used. Here’s one from a British dictionary.
“a reason or set of reasons given in support of an idea, action or theory.”
Interestingly, here’s a slightly different definition from an American dictionary, one garnished with a bit of ethic.
“a reason or set of reasons given with the aim of persuading others that an action or idea is right or wrong in support of an idea, action or theory.”
With the above definitions in mind, how often do we really argue? More importantly, how many of us have the ability to do this well?
Here’s what many people tend to do when they are unwilling to engage in a dispute, respond to a rebuttal, or when their logic is exposed for being poor, mistaken, or dishonest.
“I understand that’s your opinion.” “That’s your perspective.”
I call these remarks truisms or thought-stoppers. Let’s look at how “opinion” is defined. This is a favourite of mine.
opinion: “a view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge.”
Imagine you and I were sitting on a park bench in the superb city of Montreal.
It’s a sunny summer day, scruffy dogs and gleeful people zipping by. Look, here comes a cyclist. “Now that’s a sexy bicycle,” I say. “What!” you reply. “It looks like something from some retro junkyard!” “You’re mistaken. It’s a beee-yooty.” “That’s your opinion.”
True statement. Though I may have seen a few bicycles in my life, my taste in bicycles relies on no knowledge or factual basis. Just straight up opinion. Will it rain tomorrow? I’m no amateur meteorologist, so all I can say is maybe, maybe not.
So, what if someone does have knowledge and some facts at their disposal? Does their view become something other than an opinion? You bet it does.
conclusion: a judgment or decision reached by reasoning • a proposition that is reached from given premises.
Reasoning’s underlined for a reason. According to the Enlightenment school of thought, reason is regarded highly as a divine cornerstone of a free society.
reason as a noun:
“the power of the mind to think, understand, and form judgments logically: there is a close connection between reason and emotion. • what is right, practical, or possible; common sense:people are willing, within reason, to pay for schooling. • (one’s reason) one’s sanity: she is in danger of losing her reason.”
reason as a verb:
“think, understand, and form judgments logically: humans do not reason entirely from facts. • [with object] (reason something out) find an answer to a problem by considering possible options: she was growing too sleepy to reason it out. • (reason with) persuade (someone) with rational argument: I tried to reason with her, but without success.”
I don’t care to wave the flag of rationalism too too much because I don’t consider myself an unwavering rationalist at heart. Other faculties seem as important to me as rationality, some with even more importance. For example, the significance of intuition and experience—which may very well outshine reason in many rights—mustn’t be understated any more than it is already in our mechanistic civilization.
Let’s put a bow on all this, shall we. What am I trying to say here?
Disputes. Quarrels. Conflict. These are teachable opportunities for us to grow and learn from one another, not something to rip each other’s heads off over. I’m still trying to take my own advice.
I wish to live in a world where sanity is not seen as insane by deranged people.
Sanity will continue to recede if people surrender the faculties of thought that allow them to make sensible decisions. We come to reasonable conclusions by knowing the meaning of the words we use and how to put them together in a coherent way. I’d prefer that my daughter inherits an experience of the world that is less misconceived than the one that I have had to overcome.
It’s a new month. The infancy of a lunar new year is upon me.
The sky moans a wintry moan. A nuthatch graces the limb of a sun-soaked maple tree, skipping from limb to limb in song. Each plod of my snowshoe pulls me down into the powdered snowfall.
Winter has been hard on my whole being. It seems I have yet to rest, and with the exception of this periodic writing, I’ve been none too creative.
Recently, I was ill. A most irksome symptom was listening to several people suggest covid as though two years of wholesale brainwashing would yield any other estimation.
The daylight now stays a little later into eventide. A pleasing reminder that winter is shrinking, slowly but surely, and the relativity of a moment is thrown out and back like the boomerang of time.
I’ve been busy in thought lately, a touchstone of the season I guess. Thinking. Reading. Learning how to let go of pressure, of anxieties, of the monkey mind that never sleeps.
So much excitement, so much inspiration in the air as hundreds of thousands, perhaps now millions of my countrymen are mobilizing to end the ongoing fascist takeover of our free society.
They call it a Freedom Convoy, a homegrown phenomenon that is showing no signs of slowing down.
I was skeptical about the nature of this action at first, namely because any movement able to raise a considerable amount of money in a such a short span of time ought to raise questions, questions warranting answers.
A trucker-led action? Seems like an unusual thing to me. As it turns out, unusual has been a good thing. Didn’t take long for it to become a pressure-cooker that went global. Such is the power of memetics.
Anyway, when the establishment media in Canada began to smear the movement, my suspicions, at least for the time being were laid to rest.
Any time the agitprop press in this country slander a working-class effort to resist this or that attempt to fleece the people (in this case, resistance to fascism arising from a pseudopandemic), chances are the threat must be seen as substantial to the grifters behind the confidence trick, namely because the nature of the organizing is grassroots and effective. Forgive me for the run-on sentence.
The forces attempting to destabilize and enslave the people of the world detest earnest grassroots organizing, especially when such a mobilization is diverse, popular, unified, blue-collar, and motivated by freedom. Historically, that is the very recipe that makes heads roll and tyrant flee.
I am reminded a bit of the Occupy movement that happened about a decade ago. Those were thrilling times too.
That’s essentially what’s happening now, at least in Ottawa (and soon to be Quebec and Toronto!) where truckers, farmers, and motorists of all sorts have flooded the metropolis. The thing is, the freedom convoy seems better arranged than Occupy in most ways. There’s more people involved. It’s goals are clear. It uses better tools. My only question is: are we willing to turn up the heat on these totalitarian motherfuckers, and if so, what does that look like?
Being here now: the temperature outside is hovering around zero degrees celsius. Another big snowstorm incoming. Little bit of poplar crackles in the firebox. A toddler fast asleep in the loft. I’m not sick anymore. Spent all day outdoors. Life is good.
[The final sentence actually read “Life is god” before I corrected it.]
Breathing can accomplish so much during this hibernal time of year.
Every Sunday my family visits with another family for a meditation/stretching session. For thirty minutes the fathers watch the kids while the mothers take their turn. Then we switch. Childcare and solitary exercise all at once. Sweet stuff. I encourage other parents to experiment with some kind of activity that allows for this kind of grounding.
I wish everyone the very best. Sending love and luminosity to all my people.
If I hadn’t made me I woulda been made somehow If I hadn’t assembled myself I’d have fallen apart by now “Make Yourself” by Incubus
The sleigh fishtailed slightly on the packed snow as I tried to pour a coffee for myself. So ridiculous, I thought.
Imagine that—my coworker towing me by four-wheeler down the side of a ridge, and me bracing myself against a vertical two-by-four attached to the front of a makeshift sleigh. Trying to also pour a coffee from thermos to open cup. Jackson, in low gear, cranes his neck from the saddle of a red, moving ATV. Looks at me sitting on the little bench of the sleigh. “Didja see that!?” he shouts. “See what!?” I return loudly. “There,” he roars, pointing with his brows. “A dead squirrel!” I proceed to bellow, “Where?!” “THERE.”
He was right. There was one lying dead on the slope, squished and lifeless. Now I’ll confess with due haste: I killed the squirrel. On the drive in that morning. It was an accident. Felt pretty bad about it. Jackson assured me that it was no problem and that the “coyotes’ll come have er’ all cleaned up and gone by the time we’re done here today.”
I’m told that January in the woods is the time to be on the lookout for stray antlers of moose and deer. This is the time of year they shed them things, which is something that took me four years of backwoods living to learn. No less, you better believe I’ll be on the lookout for antlers from the Green Man.
Speaking with a friend of mine just before the papal New Year (talented fellow blogger and all around princely dynamo Stuart), I had a moment of awe.
We were having a discussion about cryptocurrency, its prospects and suspicions, and Stuart uttered the word ‘ledger’.
I remember the way the conversation segued to the subject of land—“land as the ultimate ledger.” It really got me jazzed, so I explored this notion further. Land is what it’s all about. It’s our common denominator as a human family. It gives us life and prosperity. What do we get without it? People are dead and dying, and will continue to live and die for a patch of earth to inhabit freely. A territory of their own. Empires rise and fall over this primeval matter in which whole civilizations meet their eventual fate before it.
When one’s life corresponds closely to the earth, investing time and energy into it, its value grows exponentially. To me, one of the most subversive ideas I’ve ever known and probably ever will know is that the notion of “land ownership” as its understood, is actually bogus. Closer to the truth I find that land (that is to say, territory) is ever only in a state of occupation, not ownership. By animal, plant, or mineral. The duration of this occupation depends on how well one can possess and guard such territory. It can mean the difference between presiding over an area for one month or one millennium. I digress.
My territory here at the periphery of the northerly Appalachians is going through a deep freeze at the moment. I’ve had to rearrange some plumbing in the house to compensate for exceptionally cold spots beneath our floor that led to icy lines. My own amateur plumbing skills are to blame. Scheiße! Beyond the plumbing snafu, my family will soon have a brand spanking new floor to ceiling walk-in shower. Tiling and grouting are complete, with just some silicone and sealant to wrap it up. Looks handsome, and I’ll soon be glad to put the job behind me.
Tapping will begin at the sugarbush on the otherside of this storm. Snowshoeing into the heart of wintertime is something I’m having to mentally and physically prepare for. I’ve got most of the gear to get it on and I feel acclimated enough to the cold to endure her chronic chill.
Meanwhile, this will be mine and my family’s first uninterrupted winter at Gladenook Crook, our homestead. It’s taken us over four years to get to this point. Now we can enjoy our home, our community, and the magnificent fruits borne of our tenacious labour.
My daughter’s bookshelf is growing as quick as molar and mandible. Soon she’ll have more books than her mother and I. My hope is to help foster her intellect and her conscience, physical ability, and other intelligences (i.e. social, spiritual, emotional, etc.). These are the wishes of a father who understands that his daughter is being raised in a very tough time, a time that will test her and her parents like nothing we can easily imagine. Thankfully she is being raised in a battle-tested community by very loving and vigorous individuals well-positioned to help temper her against the ongoing collapse of our communities at large.
Many Canadian communities are continuing to embrace authoritarian reforms. That said, many individuals and families have responded by working hard to set course for a better, more dignified horizon than the one currently marketed to us by technocrats, psychotics, and other enemies of free society.
In the same vein I’ve become rather capable of divesting my attention away from what French philosopher Guy Debord called “The Society of the Spectacle“, depositing it instead into the reliable account of Things That Actually Matter to Me.
This basically means that I don’t spend much time online; I completely disavow the Spectacle. As modern human existence on this planet moves toward a digital simulacra (a “singularity” as Kurzweil and other transhumanists like to foretell), it is up to us to hold fast to a quality of life that will keep the fire of freedom and dignity alive for future generations.
Gladenook’s fire is alive in both hearth and heart as my family and my neighbours go forth into the month of January.
Did you know that January is named after the ancient Italian deity Janus? He is the god of doorways, new beginnings, transitions, and general passage. He has two faces. One looking forwards, the other backwards. If we are to call this a “new year” then I feel it’s a good occasion to draw your attention to these lyrics from a beloved song called “Born on Earth” by the band Dispatch:
The old oak tree watches us like we were bees just flitting and frittering in the golden Everybody knows we all died yesterday And the day after that we were born
Very Janus-like if you ask me…
So I’m wishing everybody the best from our frigid homestead in the foothills of Wolastoq (the Maliseet people’s name for our area), also known as the Saint John River Valley (named after the man who purportedly baptized Jesus Christ, John the Baptist).
2021 was a phenomenal year for me and my family overall. My hope for humanity in 2022 is to grow, adapt, and prosper in adversity. We are embroiled in a global revolution, a colossal reformation. No one knows the outcome, but I can assure you it won’t be a bore! That’s gotta be worth something in the end.
As Hunter S. Thompson once wrote, life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming ‘Wow! What a Ride!’
“O’ Wheel of the Year, in warmth we turned yew then so once more in the cold, then once more again…”
Christmastime has a long, convoluted history, Such a tangle of traditions, symbolism, and historicity to unpack. That veil is much too tedious for me to penetrate in this write-up. Instead, I offer a meek summary and some other nuggets.
“Christ’s Mass” originates with the winter solstice, which is an event that signals the shortest period of daylight and the longest night of the year. Beyond the footfall of a positivist worldview there lies a magnificent tradition, one that is ancient and simple.
In our earthly domain, winter solstice (December solstice, namely) is a holy time of year. Various fundamentalists, ideologues, and zealots through the ages have tried to hijack solstice for an assortment of profane reasons, predictably, as a means of control. Real original, guys.
State and Church have long battled with peasant populations and autonomous communities to obfuscate or bury the spirit of animism (see: heathen, pagan, etc.) that has shaped the modern version of xmas which prevails today. On that note, other traditions exist besides xmas. I sense that more people discover and even adopt such traditions with each passing year.
In Latin, DiesNatalis Sol Invictus means “Birth of the Invincible Sun.” Christmas as a name doesn’t seem as interesting to me as that one. But Sol Invictus is actually the name attributed to an eponymous solar deity originating in Syria, later adopted by an emperor in ancient Rome. I have no wish to worship a deity, but I am partial to my Italo-Etruscan roots.
Yule is a popular tradition too. Of Germanic origin, some familiar motifs of Christmas are present in the Yule log, the evergreen adornments, and the merrymaking. My Irish ancestry makes Yule relevant to me in some ways.
I must confess I’ve been shopping around for the most appealing tradition to adopt, or at least, bits and pieces I can use to assemble my own solstice tradition for my household.
During this time of year the important thing to me is to honour the land, the natural world, and my loved ones. It’s been so enriching to celebrate Solstice ahead (and instead) of Christmas this year. I hardly identify at all with the Christian liturgical tradition of Christmas that I was raised to experience. It always seemed obtuse to me the way xmas was “celebrated” in western culture. It seemed quite meaningless and madcap altogether. Plus, a tradition that has consumerism (disguised as ‘gift-giving’) at its core does not move me. That’s not to say I fail to recognize precious time spent with family and friends as a feature of the holiday season. As far as I’m concerned that would happen no matter the calendar date.
In an effort to sanctify this cold, dark time of year, little sentiments like speaking some words to honour the land, or to bless the home, is so gratifying to me as I explore the range of solstice possibilities.
Myself, my partner, and my daughter went out to our woods to have a twilight bonfire and to burn notes that included on it messages of things we’d like to surrender as the sun regains its strength.
[Last month I typed what you are about to read in honour of my late Nonno, a man I think of often as I continue to develop a more traditional way of life on the land. It is also worth noting that just last week my only living grandmother began the 99th year of her life on Earth. A whole other ball game altogether and just as worthy of a few hundred words.]
Yesterday was my nonno’s birthday.
Had he been alive he would be 100 years of age—a bonafide centenarian.
He passed away going on 20 years ago. Never would I have thought my grandfather, my nonno (Italian for grandfather), would’ve left a waxing impression on me. Such a legacy to discover as I continue to settle into my thirties as a grandson as well as a new father. He struck me as such a different man then I was used to seeing in my upbringing.
Here was an Italian immigrant, a former police officer, and a war veteran from the Campania region of southern Italy who maintained a large backyard garden in the city of Toronto with his wife of five decades, my nonna.
Him and my nonna spent around 15 years in the house he built in Toronto West. The house is affixed firmly in my memory. It was in a noticeably Italian neighbourhood. In its basement was a wood stove and a kitchen on the bottom floor. Him and my nonna had pet budgies. On any given Sunday these budgies were known to whizz left to right through the kitchen as my nonna prepared our family lunch. She would wake up at 5am to prepare the meals, which usually consisted of several courses. My nonno did not like to talk or encourage conversation at the table. Naturally speech would happen anyway, but I haven’t had the privilege to know anyone else in my life who would straight up tell adults and kids alike to quit talking and eat their food.
He made his own wine. From ages 7 to 14 he would let me try it on occasion. Likely at an earlier age too.
I have a memory of him riding an old school bicycle down the street in the summer. The man was a cyclist into his eighties, and ate his greens because “health is important” as I imagine he once told me. He’d tap his head with his own hand and tell me it’s important to stay smart and to always learn.
His English was pretty fair, but his accent was thick and zesty. Thicker still his accent was when him and my nonna would bicker viciously in Italian. My Aunt, my zia, would sometimes have to intervene in Italian, switching to English to say to my Dad, “Are you hearing this? Unbelievable.” I died to know what they were saying at least half the time. I never learned Italian.
Earlier this year some punk politician made an apology “on behalf of all Canadians” to Italo-Canadians living in Canada who were kidnapped by RCMP et al shortly after Italy decided to join Germany in its war effort during the 1930’s. I remember my Dad once told me that nonno never spoke of the war. He was captured in Italy by “Allied” troops and shoved into an internment camp on his native land—a product of Mussolini, fascism, imperialism, and trying to live your life without dying in some horrible conflict.
So all to say, I just felt like writing something to honour the memory of my would-be centenarian Italian grandfather. He was an upright man with customs and traditions that I had the privilege of being exposed to in ways that continue to shape the man I am today.
I met up with three buddies the other night to go out for dinner downtown.
“Everyone got a mask?” a friend of mine asked as we left his house. I shook my head. “No. I’m good.”
At the sidewalk a friend remarked, “I wonder how this is going to pan out.” He was referring to the uncertainty of my being allowed into the restaurant without “proof-of-vaccination” papers. “Yeah, me too,” The only thing going for me was that I chose the spot based on its publicity as an anti-segregation, pro-choice establishment. I was hoping I wasn’t mistaken about its position.
The three of us weaved through a couple side streets and arrived at the doors of the resto. I went in first, fresh-faced and as confident as a man tempered by many years of facing down controversy in his own life.
“Hi there. How are you?” I said to the hostess. “Good, thanks. How’re you?”
“Very well. Very well. I’m here under a reservation for Justin? For four.”
“Okay, great,” she replied. “I’ll have to ask you for your proof-of-vaccination—”
I stared at her with bated breath. She finished her sentence.
“But it’s up to you how you’d like to answer that request—”
Abracadabra. A choice. I shook my head and politely declined. “No, thank you.”
“Okay, right this way.” And she seated us at our table with not the slightest air of an issue. My buddies seemed a bit astonished. I was pretty relieved, delighted, and feeling triumphant. We had a really fantastic dinner, and I was so grateful to have spent time with some old companions.
That’s what it’s all about, baby.
I was tempted to name the title of this entry COVID 1984 Part Three as a continuation of my other two instalments. Yet in order to pay tribute to all of those who are leading by example I’ve chosen to refrain from the dystopic circle-jerk so common today among contrarians by sharing the incredible progress that’s been made by an assortment of individuals and grassroots groups fighting for our rights in ways both big and small.
For starters, countless healthcare workers and educators here in New Brunswick are being wrongfully dismissed from their jobs for not participating in a science experiment.
In spite of this mass dismissal, many educators are getting hired in a private capacity by parents who have pulled their children out of what has become a completely degenerate school system. This campaign of wrongful dismissal is actually a blessing in disguise for some. Such a shakeup can allow for the teachers who care deeply about healthy learning environments to continue being of service to our youth, go on earning a living, and help to preserve the rights that their former employers disrespected.
As I write this, Quebec fascists have yielded to the pressure put on by noble students, teachers, parents, and educators of Quebec in efforts to instate compulsory injection throughout the education sector. The state of Montana banned pharma mandates altogether.
Screenshot taken from an episode of the “After Skool” video series
Dismissed healthcare workers are also beginning to provide care to their communities free from the anti-human reforms of provincial health departments. As the healthcare system in NB continues to be sabotaged by tyrants and bed-wetters, to have independent medical practitioners and nurses working directly in our communities seems to be of great importance to me.
Behold another triumph that involves brave people doing the right thing.
I know of at least three major police departments in Canada that have made official statements saying they will not respond to calls concerning “health passes”or that they will not compel their officers to make any medical decision against their free will. Same goes for Canada Post.
Last week a federal mandate was enacted to subject American airline employees to experimental injections as a condition to keep their jobs, In turn Southwest Airline workers essentially organized a wildcat strike (a sudden unofficial strike). MSM propagandists attempted to spin the story by saying inclement weather was to blame for the cancellation of 2000 flights when in fact a strike had taken place and pilots were refusing to fly in protest. It took only a matter of days for the CEO of Southwest to officially abandon the enforcement of the mandate.
Other airlines have followed since.
As narrated at the top of this writing, there are many companies that refuse to adopt segregationist policy in their workplaces. I know of several provincial and national directories that provide a means for customers to support businesses owners with a backbone. I’m a proud patron of these places. Such directories have grown immensely, and they will continue to grow as long as authoritarian mandates persist.
Colossal rallies are still taking place worldwide despite vain attempts to restrict or outlaw civic gatherings altogether. The media-industrial-complex is working overtime to minimize, slander, or blackout the growing volume of outrage in Canada and beyond. The CBC was just recently caught using footage from a training video that depicted a mannequin receiving critical care in a hospital bed. This is the quality of their theatre.
Nonetheless, independent reporting continues to grow. After all, it is a natural offshoot of liberty and an enemy of the oligarch. So too has censorship grown, another positive sign that loads of people worldwide reject—or at least question—the crumbling paradigm before us.
Those of us who have stood by our principles have been met with contempt and abandonment from those who, appearing to be our friends or family, proved to be little more than fair-weather acquaintances. Still, the silver lining remains—for we are the company we keep, and many righteous people are now keeping more supportive, respectful company than before. This is cause for celebration.
For so many of us, the spell of dread, of f.u.d. (fear, uncertainty, doubt) is wearing off. Those who peddle us f.u.d. are of course destined to fail, and their chances of ending up before a firing line, in a dumpster, in exile, or on the stand of a people’s tribunal loom larger each day, they persist in their silly games. That is their lot in life.
I say this. Fuck silly games. We will play games by their rules no more. Fuck multinationals. Their profits will literally be the death of us unless we get up off our asses and unleash our power. Fuck censorship. Fuck segregation. Fuck corruption. Fuck enforced idiocy and ignorance. No more cowardice. Like Zack de la Rocha put it: no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop us now. Great lyrics from a great jam!
People from Whitehorse to Yarmouth are taking steps to distance themselves from the influence of a profoundly sick system, rigged by some profoundly sick souls. Whether it’s people sharing land together in the countryside, taking legal action against corrupt unions and politicians, practicing self-defence, or quitting their jobs in protest, there remains so much success and bounty waiting for us on the other side of fear.
Little can be done for the apathetic and resigned masses who are so consumed by their helplessness and self-consciousness that no imagination or courage is possible for them. Those who choose to “go along to get along” are being mocked, demeaned, and exploited as they do everything their masters command them to do. All that can be done for such people is to alert others, extend help through discussion, and lead by example. For now history will remain just another netflix series for most of us.
Again, this is not about some phony pandemic or its stupid sideshow. It’s about saying NO to those who seek to oppress us by having us oppress one another. It’s about preserving our dignity as a people, as a human family, and living honourably and truthfully together.
All things considered—free people will always triumph, no matter how long or hard the road. Let us never lose sight of this fact.
All the power of our ancestors are within us. All the forces of nature propel us.
When If Not Now 