Celebrating Kwanzaa at Christmas in Mitchieville

My angry brother has two sons: Gluten Badwulf, and Spud Badwulf. My brother, and his family, are visiting me, Fenris Badwulf, here at my abode in Toronto, the City of Light. Thanks to the ongoing efforts of our activists, Toronto, the City of Light does not have a road net capable of handling traffic. That was decades ago. Now, public transit has reached ‘capacity’ and become one of those open air, green zoos for primates. Thank you, activists. None the less, for the young (such as Gluten and Spud), underground trains have a particular fascination. So, let us celebrate urban culture and journey with Gluten and Spud as I, Fenris Badwulf, take the nephews on the TTC.

Before the fun begins, I always establish boundaries and set limits. I give Gluten and Spud the Subway Safety talk. I do this in a loud voice, more the type of voice an actor uses to reach the back of the theater. I use a monotone, like a hypnotist does. The setting is the subway car, heading south from Eglinton station. Everybody listens, even the other passengers. Nobody much talks on the Subway; they are too busy secretly watching each other for signs of madness, weapons, or gang affiliation. So, they listen. My Subway Safety speech is just a rehash of incidents on the TTC. With some embellishments. Basic untruths, fabrications in whole cloth, fairy dust. Just enough to scare the shit out of people and plant suggestions into the fertile ground of their subconsciousness.

Someone got pushed to their death on the subway. This only a few days after the last person got pushed to their death on the subway. If it was not such a serious subject, it would be a Monty Python skit. Aaaaah. By letting the insane wander the streets, unmedicated, self-medicated, and voting socialist, the subway traveler is exposed to the murderous impulses of these victims of underfunding. I warn Gluten, I warn Spud. My body language speaks of wariness, like a first responder looking at a ‘Weapons Free Zone’ sign outside a building where an incident is taking place. The hysteria I channel is mirrored by the silent observers surrounding me on the subway. Gluten and Spud are in on the game: If I can trigger hysteria using stage hypnosis methods, why can’t the main stream media trigger hysteria about Guns!?

It takes a little longer to get to the good shopping in Toronto, the City of Light. I like to suddenly shift to whispered conversation, punctuated with surreptitious glances at something dangerous far down the subway car. The kids, Gluten and Spud, play along. They shift from boisterous teenager speak to quiet, eyes downcast and shifty over to the something dangerous. Then we pad off the subway car, acting like we do not want to be noticed. This works best when you exit at one of those never used subway stations like Castle Frank or Summerhill. Everyone looks down the car, searching for the something dangerous, but they can never find it. Their imagination kicks in, like the media making up details about news stories. Something dangerous, indeed.

Sure, you do not believe in hypnosis. Nobody can hypnotize you. That is great. Same argument applies to telemarketing. You just hang up, or fart into the mouth piece. Yup. It works for you. Which is why a telemarketer does his dials. The ones you can hypnotize are out there. On a given medium to empty subway car, all you need is one or two. Then the group modelling takes place, which, sometimes leads to the hilarity of mass hysteria. Sure, my hypnosis license has expired, but that means I cannot still do research, now can I? After all, if what I was doing was dangerous, the leftists would be trying to register or regulate it. Besides, the leftists and the media use hypnotic techniques all the time. So it must be OK. Gluten and Spud get a real kick out of it. Anything that makes a child smile has got to be good and right, er, left.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this. I care.

One Response to “Celebrating Kwanzaa at Christmas in Mitchieville”

  1. The Mayor Says:

    It also plays well when after you use your *outside voice* inside the subway car, and right when you’re exiting the door, to leave a small wrapped box under the seat.

    What’s in the box?

    Sound the alarm!

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