Dragoon Canadians

In military history, Dragoons were a type of Calvary. They flourished in Napoleonic times. They wore nifty uniforms, carried sabres, and died like flies when they charged cannon. In times of peace, Dragoons were used to crush civil insurrection * * … the ruling power would house them in twos and threes in the houses of the oppressed. These big, burly men watched for dissent, and ate wealth. Dragoons were not loved.

The stupid racists that wrote the American constitution prohibited this practice. When the far right extremists of the Republican party wanted to subjugate the environmentally friendly Southern states during Re-construction, they imposed Federal garrisons, but they did not dragoon troops in individual homes. This was wise, as a nation of free men will rise up in rebellion when this happens. They will raise up a Cromwell, or recruit a William of Orange, or just start blowing shit up. Slave nations do no such thing, of course. Their backs ache for the whip, and their lazy hands grasp for handouts.

In Canada, that racist shit hole where social spending is never enough, we have new age Dragoons. Our Dragoons walk our streets, ride our public transit, and eat our wealth. And if you mutter magic words, they will beat you. In a country built on the rule of law, they are not ruled by law. In a country where justice is blind, when they face justice, our judges favour them, and justice weeps. If one mutters an observation about the Dragoon-Canadians who piss and shit on the subway, you are silenced with oppression.

Dragoon-Canadians serve as useful instruments of the aristocrats that we have allowed to rule over us. Many once free men whore after consumer goods, and do not live where the Dragoons do their raping, robbing, and drug dealing. The aristocrats never live among the Dragoons. But the people who pay the taxes to keep the aristocrats in gas cards, arts grants, and photo copier paper, do.

Hatred for the Dragoon-Canadians is building. You can see it when the peasant global villagers leave the subway car, sickened by the splashing piss. You can see it when the craftsman hides his tools, and when the merchant invests in cameras rather than a cooler for milk. You can see it in the crawling standards for education, when running was the norm.

Some lost souls love Dragoons. They have pretty clothes, they are tall, and muscular, and scented, and speak charming words before they rape you. The Sodomites, students of the sublime Tantric arts of anal fist fucking, report that their Dragoon will look you in the eye and lie about carrying the pest. This is not charming or cute like a harp seal pup. This is the face of the rapists, the whores, the pox’ed Dragoons that aristocrats have groomed and bred to squish the taxpayers, which is you.

A wiser course of action is rather to hate the aristocrats than their foul servants. Dragoon-Canadians are schooled in our public schools to seek out and profit from resistance. An honest word will guarantee them a job for life, free of labor, but rich in benefits and pension. But our aristocrats are soft and weak, unused to actual toil. They live in unfortified places, and they wear their aristocratic privilege on their sleeves. You know who they are. And if you are crafty, they will not know who you are. This gives you an advantage, as any partisan, any veteran of the Balkan wars will teach you. The Nazi socialists wore their uniform, and ours do as well.

Your first duty is to study where the aristocrats live, work, and play among you. William of Orange has not yet landed, and our Fenian oppressors still have their dreamy judges behind the bench, their creative artists in the media, and their blasphemous clerics.

The time will come to march to the fife and drum to the green, grassy slopes of the Boyne. Real justice will be handed out, both capital and with the scourge. For now, look behind the slack-jawed Dragoons, and study the ways and habitations of the aristocrats. Gather resources. Recruit friends. Undermine the aristocrats, boycott their industry, spit in their food, and support those who support you.

Just do it.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this

xpd Mitchieville, DustMyBroom, Stormy Days of March