So, uh, there was this convoy in Ottawa over the weekend. No one’s really sure what the hell it was all about, or what it was meant to accomplish or how, but it furnished us with some good laughs at the expense of the idiots who went:

…when it wasn’t alienating the locals, who had to live with a bunch of snot-nosed Little Hitlers honking their horns at all hours, and shitting all over the place, and impeding the local economy, and keeping a disabled woman housebound as she ran out of food. Among other things.

Oh yeah, and they also mocked indigenous folks. They even howled like drunken wolves and yelled “Yabba dabba doo”, as though modern-day indigenous people were cartoon cavemen.

On the bright side, it looks like Erin O’Toole (and what a tool he is!) is about to become Conservative party history. On the not-so-bright side, it looks like his replacement will be a lot more Nazified, because the party’s right wing is pissed that conversion “therapy” is now no longer legal. He fumbled the football for two mortal days by not denouncing this caravan-o-hate, but his head is going to roll among the party faithful because he wasn’t hateful enough. (You can’t make this up, folks.)

And on that note, January draws to a close. I don’t know what February has in store, but I dare to hope that everything every right-wing nutjob in this country has been up to lately ends up backfiring spectacularly on them. They’ve won no new converts, and their mask-off moment on Parliament Hill is just what it took to make everyone see them in their true, revoltingly ugly colors.

Sic semper imbecilis!

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