November 4, 2016 by T. Gregory Argall
This is an awkward time to be Canadian.
We’re standing here, all thirty-six and a half million of us, looking apprehensively to the south, watching a train wreck unfold in slow motion, helpless to do anything to stop it. The time for rational thought and reasonable advice has long since passed. The train has already derailed and cars are flipping end over end, flying through the air, landing sometime next Tuesday night.
All we have left to comfort ourselves at this point is the cold and shameful thought that maybe, living up here, we won’t be affected by the wreck as much as the people living down there beside the tracks; maybe that large tank covered with orange paint and faded health warnings isn’t actually full of toxic waste, ready to explode on impact creating a continent-sized crater.
But like Schrodinger’s Railroad, we won’t know what’s on the train until it all spills out. As the northern neighbours, watching it happen, it’s not up to us. We have no control over it from here. It’s for the people living by the tracks to decide what’s on board.
Regardless of where everything lands on Tuesday, there is no doubt that the neighbourhood is going to change. There will be damage. Things will break when other things land on them, and everyone will blame everyone else, because 325 million engineers on one giant high-speed train couldn’t see where the tracks were.
We’re at the stage now where we’re just worried about being dragged, against our will and better judgement, into the swirling hellstorm of disagreement and resentment that will consume everyone it touches over the next four years.
So, as a distraction, here’s a video of a bunch of puppies playing in a lawn sprinkler.
Try to be nice to each other.
Seriously. Please, we’re begging you, America. I’ve never meant this more than I do now. Please, try to be nice to each other.