Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Justin Trudeau on Black Panther

 I just saw Black Panther and wow, wow, wowsers trousers. Here is a movie about unity, style, substance, Canadian values. This movie right here is the reason movies were created, to uplift the oppressed masses. Not since the Emancipation Proclamation and later the Canadian Civil Rights Movement has our country felt such a quantum leap forward. This is NOT just a movie, this is a sonic boom of black empowerment. This is the BIG BANG in celluloid form.

First there was Jesus, then there was Obama, and now there’s Black Panther. When I watched this with my two persons (sons if you want to be a dick about it), seeing their eyes beam at the beautifully-acted, hyper-violent gore it was a game-changer. An all-black cast. It was like, “We’re tired of your shit, whites, now we’re doing it back unto YOU.” Every measured politician knows two wrongs make one right so I was happy to see we snuck out of the dreadful black and white stereotypes into the beautiful technicolor stereotype of black and white thinking. Eat it, my maple-sucking Canucks. Haha, kidding, the Panther has got me by the pants~!

Blacks, the race of which I identify, have finally attained its long sought-after reparations. After 400 years of torment and anguish, we have tarred and feathered statues and have had a black Prime Minister because as of this moment I am officially declaring T’Challa the honorary (sp?) PRIME MINISTER OF THE CANADIAN EMPIRE! Trudeau? Trudeau-done-it, Tru-dat! Haha, the black’s really rubbing off on me, I’m so happy I could dance a minstrel SHOW-OF-SUPPORT with my colored brethren like when I dress up in the name of cultural sensitivity as an Indian or any member of the Village People.

It’s important we learn, excuse me, RE-LEARN respect for one another. We must show sensitivity by engaging in their customs. Before my speech to the gay community, I made love to a man, in Mexico I helped kidnap a popular pop singer, when visiting an un-specified Asian country, I had deep-dish puppy pizza. Three words: WHEN. IN. ROME. There is no cultural concession I nor anyone should be unwilling to make. Diversity is a wonderful thing. We should be diverse in everything except opinion, because opinions are objective fact. It’s simple: If it makes you feel bad, it’s bad. If it makes you feel good, well, why wouldn’t someone be allowed to feel like it? Like a fox, or an under-aged girl, or a Prime Minister.

People have said I only got by politically on my father’s name. Hogwash! They say I’m riding his coattails. WRONG. In fact, if anything, I am dressed up in his coat, over-sized, adorably posing in his shoes I could never fill. Not metaphorically speaking, of course. I’ve surpassed his legacy by every metric; I’ve unified every single culture whether they like it or find it repellent; I am at the throne at the radio tower doing the one thing more important than affecting change, signaling virtue! We need a leader who unites us in delusion, not some punk who merely wants to make decisions based on what is practically realistic. Why steer the ship when you can say not only has it landed, but I AM THE SHIP! Mission accomplished! All-aboard! It’s a non-stop ride to Infinite Peace and you can be damn sure I’ll be wearing my pirate’s outfit.

All the haters are in the rear-view mirror of my ships (do ships have them?), waving and crying and bleeding green blood with envy. Remember, they only hate me because I’m young, and handsome, and “incompetent at my job,” bullshit excuses not to get on the Gravy Train and wear a panther-fang necklace in office eeeeeevvverrrydayyy. J’Trudeau rules, O’Doyle rules, T’Challa rules! So glad that maniac Rob Ford is dead. No more clown show, we’re going to one-up America! Upward and onward!


No comments:

Post a Comment