Inside the Beast

Just what is going on inside the Big Red Corporation? You can observe from afar, I guess. You can count heads going into and out of buildings; make estimates of cash flow and salary based on car selection and hours of work; and figure out hours per day of useful work based on starting and leaving times. But my Dad always used to say Who Dares, Wins, so why not just join a leftist organization? Get the view from the inside the red cadre, so much better than just working in a red infiltrated institution * . Somewhere around the beginning of your inside the Big Red Corporation experience comes Indoctrination, also known as History of the Glorious Struggle.

My History of the Glorious Struggle seminar came as an unexpected module in a course about something else quite different. I am sadly ignorant of teaching methods, so there must be a good reason why the History of the Glorious Struggle apple was included with the course on oranges. The instructor, brought in for the occasion, was a text book case of abilityism: that is, an example of the left promoting based on anything but ability. You have all had bad teachers: this was the worst I have had in my life. He spoke in a chorus of uhs, you knows, and and,uh, and,uh. But getting indoctrinated in the History of the Glorious Struggle is an important stepping stone in ingratiating oneself into the ranks of the permanently employed, pensioned, left voting reds. You want that tax payer funded pay check, you have to go through History of the Glorious Struggle .

Things were bad in the past. Yup, I got that. I took notes. There were no unions back then, I was told. I wanted to mention the lack of industry, the agricultural society, the industrial revolution, that sort of stuff, but, like the rest of the permanent employment, pension seeking class, I kept my mouth shut. I looked around the class. This new cadre, the future vanguard of the party, were not the type to have paid much if any attention in class. Maybe they had employment equity teachers, those legendary incompetents promoted by quota, skin tone, and genetics, up the employment ladder greased with white guilt. I know of kids home schooled who know who Tommy Douglas is, what the CCF was, and the dates and implications of the Typographers strike in 1870 something, but the legions who have passed through the hands, under the noses, and influenced by, the teachers unions have not a clue. Indeed, the home schooled have the advantage in education; the cadre needs to be brought up to speed.

Things were bad in the past; Stephen Harper is bad; things have been getting worse since 1975. This is what I learned in three hours. The class mutinied for their break; two students did not return after, their books sat like artifacts found in Tut’s tomb. I sipped my coffee and dreamed of pensionable hours. There was no structure to the instruction. The Triangle shirt fire was mentioned, but as an anecdote referring to the pink Triangle the queers wore in the Nazi death camps.

Stephen Harper is bad.
There were secret societies in the past, apparently. They had secret handshakes. I nodded in agreement. The instructor, who began to praise Sir John A. McDonald for his role in some bit of labor legislation (something to do with putting the boots to the despicable Liberal George Brown, paper owner), neglected to mention John A.’s membership in the Freemasons, let alone the more topical Orange Lodge. McDonald is good; George Brown is bad. Secret societies are bad, except when good people are members; at which point we just do not mention that fact. I guess the conclusion is that bad people have a sticky badness that sticks and makes visible whatever could be considered bad around them; good people have a sparkly glow that conceals any bad stuff with the clean light of politically correct truth. You can see this with Jack Layton and the whore house; or not see it for the sparkles. None of this relates to Stephen Harper, except that he is a member of a party that used to have a Progressive wing. The Progressives were wonderful people, said the instructor. He liked them, he named names: Diefenbaker, Joe Clark. I woke up. I never knew the Bolsheviks liked the Progressives. The Bolsheviks certainly poured scorn on them in their time, and the progressive voters of the time never much voted for the Progressive Conservative party; reserving their votes for the Bolshevik front. Harper, having abandoned the Progressive brand, is bad. I nodded back to sleep, to doodling, to dreaming of pension.

Things have been getting worse since 1975.
The one time the instructor asked for class participation: what happened in 1975 to make things worse? Everybody looked at everybody else. Make the wrong, er, right answer, and you could get labelled as the counter revolutionary. One brave soul suggested that it was immigration. Another suggested it was the election of Ronald Reagan. The current politically correct answer is Wage and Price Controls. He never really explained why. So I cannot share with you the logic of the left. Just accept it, repeat it, and demand more taxes. Other questions came to my mind: how could a piece of Canadian legislation, enacted by a leftist dream boat (Trudeau) lead to the world wide retreat of conditions for the working man/woman/queer? I still do not know the answer. I know I am at fault, what with being white, male, and straight. I should have put up my hand and asked. But then again, no. I want a permanent job, with pension; and to do this I must leave my brain at the door.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this

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