Albertans, it's been about a month since the referendum.
The reality is, we're halfway to our goal of seeing Alberta become strong and free.
Some of us were disappointed. Some of us were exhausted. Let's be honest, most of us were exhausted. And many of us thought, "Well, that's that. I guess we just sit around and wait."
But here's the reality: Our mission isn't done. Alberta independence isn't over.
We did in one year what took the NDP 80 years to accomplish.
With everyone against us, from our own government to our own media, and sometimes even ourselves, we accomplished half of what we needed to do.
Think about that for a moment. Despite everything stacked against us, we made it halfway to our goal.
While Danielle Smith and Mark Carney seek to stamp out the fires and embers still burning in the hearts of Albertans, it's time for us to stand up and get back to work.
We don't need to hit the gas quite as hard as we did before. But now is the time to focus on bringing the other half of Alberta on board with independence.
Moving forward, we need to reach out culturally. We need to meet people where they're at. We need to build bridges, strengthen our communities, and help Albertans understand what they're fighting for.
And let's face it, Mark Carney and the Liberals are going to continue pushing their agenda, and in doing so, they'll continue giving Albertans reasons to support this movement.
Because unless the conditions that created this movement change, this movement isn't going anywhere.
So I'm calling on every pro-independence Albertan:
Stand up. Brush off the dust. Adjust your hat.
It's time to put our shoulders back to the wheel and keep moving forward.
We have work to do, Albertans.
Let's make Alberta strong and free!
Let's go deeper into why this is important. The Canadian Pension Plan is explictly NOT a government asset. It belongs to the people paying into it. Yet, the Government of Canada is now listing CPP as an asset that belongs to them, not Canadian pensioners.
The Federal Government just listed your CPP as its asset for the purpose of borrowing against it. If that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about Canada, I can’t help you.
*The Secret to Staying Young_ Never Stop Being Curious*
@megha_lilly
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*How Bank Debt and Interest Drain Community Wealth*
@NakedHedgie
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A 2023 analysis presented by Steve Kirsch to the Pennsylvania State Senate looked at nearly 400,000 Amish people in the U.S. who are 100% unvaccinated.
In their children, chronic conditions such as cancer, diabetes, and autism are essentially non-existent.
The Amish also did not follow COVID mandates and lockdowns, yet recorded roughly 90 times higher survival during that time.
Instead of being recognized as a control group to gauge whether health interventions are working, they are being conveniently ignored.
The year is 180. You are a gladiator in Ephesus, and the films will give you a body like a bronze statue. You are fed barley porridge and beans, and the crowd calls you a barley man to your face. The porridge puts a layer of fat over your muscle so the cuts bleed instead of killing, which is good for the show. The man who owns you dines on dormice rolled in honey and poppy seed. When your bones are dug up eighteen centuries later they are full of barley and almost nothing else, and a man at a university will call your diet plant-forward.
The year is 1300. You are a villein on a Hampshire manor, living, as the brochure will one day put it, in harmony with the land. The land gives you pottage: peas, beans and oats in the one pot, every day, until you die of it at forty. The hall above you smells of venison from the lord's own park, roast pork, eel, swan, butter from cows you milked before dawn. Take one deer from his wood and you lose a hand. The court that decides it sits in his hall, after dinner.
The year is 1755. You are a Highland tenant eating oatmeal three times a day, and in London Dr Johnson has just printed his dictionary. Oats: a grain which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people. The laird at the head of your glen finds this very funny over his beef. The beef was driven to market past your door.
The year is 1795. You are a Berkshire farm labourer and a clergyman is at your table with a notebook, writing down what your children eat. Bread. Tea. A little cheese. Bacon on Sunday if the pig did well. He prints it as a national disgrace. The squire you work for has a joint every day of the year and is told from the pulpit that your trouble is thrift.
The year is 1847. You are in County Clare and the potatoes have gone black in the ground for the second year running. Your family lived on them, ten pounds a day for a working man, and you are sitting in a cabin with nothing. At the harbour the ships are loading cattle, pigs, butter and bacon for England, under armed guard. The agent on the quay looks well. So does the bullock walking up the gangplank past the people who raised it.
The year is 1933. You are in a village outside Kharkiv. The grain quota has been collected, then collected again, then the brigades have come with iron rods to probe the floors for anything buried. Your children are eating boiled bark, and the dog next door has stopped barking. In the district town there is a shop for Party members with a curtain over the window. Behind the curtain there is sausage.
The year is 1997. You are in North Pyongan and the rations stopped months ago. You are stripping the inner bark from pines and boiling grass, and the famine will take hundreds of thousands before it ends. The Dear Leader's personal chef is flying to Japan for tuna, to Denmark for pork and to Iran for caviar, and will write a book about it.
The year is 2026. You are in a supermarket in England. The posters say eat less meat for the planet. The spread is plant-based, the cereal has a heart on the box, and the beef carries a warning about its footprint. You take the lentils, because you are a responsible person, and you pay more for them than the villein's pottage ever cost anyone.
The people who put the posters up flew to the climate conference, and the menu had beef on it. They eat what the lord ate, what the laird ate, what the agent on the quay ate, what the man behind the curtain ate.
Two thousand years, and the diet of grain and beans was always what the powerful handed down to the people beneath them. Everyone at both ends of the table knew what it meant.
Now it has a name, a logo and a moral, and for the first time in history the peasant is paying extra for it.
*Calculating Balance-What Women Ask too Late*
@megha_lilly
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