The wayward Liberals continue their dismantling of Canada: After just killing the proposed bill that would have prohibited at least gender-selective abortion, they just passed third reading of their threatened law prohibiting ‘conversion therapy’ for minors. Anyone eighteen and under who suffers from gender dysphoria, SSA and other spiritual and psychological ills must be left alone, if not actively supported, and any attempt to convince those meandering in this moral morass that their path is wrong or misguided – even parent-child conversations, counseling and sacramental confession – would be punishable with up to five years in the slammer with actual criminals, if there are any real laws left for them to break, as they lock up all us Christians.
Every Party voted in favour of this Orwellian totalitarianism – 263 to 83 – with only a majority of the Conservatives voting against, except, of course, the ever-undependable leader, Erin O’Toole.
And our legal misery does not end there: The Liberals, in a vote at 1:30 am Tuesday morning, passed (196 to 112) the controversial Bill C-10, allows the government to censor content on the internet, even of private individuals. The purported purpose is to ensure more ‘Canadian content’ – difficult enough to define, never mind find enough of quality – but will also be used to regulate ‘hate speech’, which means any criticism of, you guessed it, gender dysphoria, transgenderism, homosexuality, and so on.
A propos that Tuesday was the memorial Saints Thomas More and John Fisher, victims of an incipient totalitarian regime in their own day, and who shone like sparks amidst the stubble in the midst a crooked generation. The quotation put on the front page becomes ever more a propos:
Canada needs a thorough Ninevehite ‘conversion therapy’, a deep metanoia, without which we are quite literally doomed. But there is always hope, at least of the supernatural sort. The Mass, Confession, the Rosary are good places to start.
All the while, even if it’s not quite rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, or fiddling while Rome burns, but the complaints about the price of Jason Kenney’s Irish whiskey consumed at his quasi-illegal get-together in his Conservative rooftop hangout comes close. The premier insouciantly claimed it was an ‘economical’ variety – $50 a bottle, paid for out of his own funds – which is odd and disproportionate, as Alberta sinks into a Grand Canyon-esque financial abyss which all the cost of all the hootch in the world would be but a drop. People – families, businesses – have been ruined, yet Mr. Kenney obtusely sticks to his draconian lockdown policies, at least for the hoi polloi, including vaccinating twelve-year olds.
As an aside, and on a more pleasant note, I prefer Scotch whiskey, and only the good stuff. Better to savour a little, than waste a lot, even as Rome burns. After all, in vino et in Scotcho veritas.