Go Storm the Bastille

Things are just dipped in shit for the village peoples of North Montreal. That is the Montreal equivalent of Jane-Finch, er, Scarborough, er Regents Park, er, whatever developed piece of farm land that the village peoples live in live in.

Poor, oppressed poor people. Looking back at the history of my ancestors, we too have been oppressed. When oppressed, my diverse heritage village peoples would seek to immigrate to richer, more developed countries with progressive social welfare systems and take advantage of free education and employment quotas to get great jobs that they were not qualified for because they were stupid. That’s what my Viking ancestors did. Or my Norman ancestors who went to Sicily.

Wait a second! That is not what happened! Gosh darn! When my Viking ancestors were oppressed (by those Danish Vikings!) they went out and burned and killed and slaughtered. ‘Mess with’ is not the correct term. Being asked for your license is not the moral equivalent of the sack of Lindisfarne. Familiarize yourself with the terms and conditions of ‘total war’, dog. How about the Normans? When the brothers of the house of Hauteville arrived in sunny Sicily they slept in their chain mail. At least until all the po-lice were rotting in the sun.

If my people were treated as badly as you say yours are treated, dog, the police would be counting their dead in the thousands. The smell of mustard gas would be in the air. Starving garrisons would be eating rats, looking at the crucified, rotting bodies of their captured comrades. Familiarize yourself with what the Fenians were doing to the British garrisons in Northern Ireland as an example of what humans do when oppressed. Pencil in some time between cashing your taxpayer money to find out.

Go grow some nuts, Doctor Dawg. It will give you something to lick between fetching sticks. And don’t forget Sunday dinner is when you get the slop scraped from the humans plates. Wag your tail and go lick your nuts, Doctor Dawg. If you are cute, maybe some fat woman will let you lick her toes.

You do not like how you are treated? Go storm the Bastille. Spill your guts on the ground and earn some respect from those who went before. You want to pick fights with women? Pretty scary stuff, dog. Now that the Russian bear has woken up, (disturbing the sleep of the Germans I might add), lets go see how you dogs and your fellow slaves handle the climb to the top of Vimy Ridge. It is a bit of exercise. I do not think the UN mandated wheel chair ramps have been installed yet.

Are there Material Safety Data Sheets available for phosgene gas? Where is the WHMIS binder for the eighteen inch bayonet? Does the lance-corporal who commands your section realize that you will make a written complaint to the sergeant for his use of harsh language? When is break time during the rolling barrage? Does the lunch trailer have adequate overhead protection from splinters from those 150 millimetre shells? Is the muddy water from the shell hole that you drink to quench your thirst during your third day stranded in no-mans-land contaminated with peanut oil? Do Tiger Tanks carefully recycle their used engine oil? Does that Sturmovik pilot realize that you need adequate warning to put on ear protection when he flies below fifty meters? And those U-boats off St.Johns, they better be sorting and bagging their garbage and not throwing it into the ocean.

Go take your dogs and slaves and go storm the Bastille, Doctor Dawg. Go ask the Irish for reparations. Go ask some Kraut about their ancestral farm in Silesia. If the police irritate you, make them fear you. The price is blood. Otherwise, take your yapping poodle arse away from the table. I want to get drunk and look at the women dance.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this

xpd Mitchieville, DustMyBroom, Stormy Days of March