In this excerpt from Lucinda’s journal she and her sisters approach Inner Worlds Gallery owner Brenda Tanner to see if they can secure a safer lifestyle for their brother Larry. He’s been living on the street, earning money doing sketches and gaining a reputation as a graffiti artist. He’s pitched his tent in the gallery’s parking lot and started a mural on its back wall—getting enthusiastic approval from Brenda after the fact. The sisters want to talk to Brenda about Larry’s well-being, but Lucinda has someting else on her mind, too…
If Larry couldn’t be lured off the street, we’d make his homeless existence as safe and comfortable as possible. We approached Brenda with our plan because we wanted to do whatever we could to secure his place in her parking lot. “Of course he can stay there!” she countered. “Homelessness isn’t the same thing as placelessness. Larry MacDonald has a place right here!” She patted her left breast. “As long he wants to make my parking stall his home, he’s welcome. “In fact, I’ve already talked to the tenants and owner of the building on the other side of my lot. I want to commission Larry to do a second mural on their wall. If they agree to it, and he accepts, he’ll be camped out in his patch of gravel for at least a year. Probably more.” God! I wished in that moment I could stop loving Brenda so much. But I couldn’t help thinking and feeling like a romantic poet whenever I found myself within the ambit of her radiant being, a glow that suffused my waking and sleeping dreams. Shamelessly, I took advantage of her enthusiastic announcement to hug her; and she took advantage of my taking advantage by kissing me on the neck stepping back from that sudden embrace. I didn’t dare exchange a glance with my sisters, who had witnessed that subtle collapse of my known universe. I knew they knew; didn’t want them to know that I knew they knew, which would have entailed confused and embarrassing elaboration. Some kisses are ephemeral—token gestures of affection that evaporate the instant they are bestowed; others stay with you, an intoxicant infusing your blood. I’ve never gotten over Brenda’s first kiss.
Candidates participating in the April 15 all-candidates meeting addressed a long list of issues raised by the voters. Conservative Party of Canada candidate Jeff Kibble did not attend the meeting.
Cowichan-Malahat-Langford candidates speak to the issues
In his closing remarks, Liberal Party of Canada candidate Blair Herbert said to the audience at the Chemainus Residents Association’s all-candidates meeting that Conservative candidate Jeff Kibble, who did not attend, may have been told by Party Leader Pierre Poilievre to steer clear of community meetings.
“I want to address the elephant in the room,” Herbert said. “Or rather, the elephant that’s not in the room—the empty seat right here next to me, this comes down from the top.
“Poilievre has told his people, ‘Do not attend all-candidates meetings, and do not talk to the press.’ And I think that sends a message to me, and it sends a message to everybody in this room, and everybody in this riding, that the Conservative candidate is not interested in what you have to say now, and he’s not going to be interested in what you have to say if you send him to Ottawa.”
Herbert said national polls suggest that the April 28 federal election will be a contest between two parties, the Liberals and the Conservatives. He quoted former NDP Leader Thomas Mulcair as saying, ‘Trump’s threat to Canada means that the choice for Canada must be between the Liberals and the Conservatives.’
New Democratic Party candidate Alistair MacGregor asked the audience to think about his experience and achievements as their MP when they cast their votes. “What I offer to you folks is my service, my track record as your member of parliament,” he said, pointing to his nine-and-a-half years as their MP.
MacGregor said he’s had tremendous success as an opposition MP: bringing grocery chain executive Galen Weston before the Agriculture Committee to “face questioning on high food prices”; advocating in Parliament for a study that led to the strengthening of Canada’s Competition Bureau, which “…led the House of Commons to finally confront the corporate greed that is driving so much of the cost of living.”
He concluded that a strong contingent of NDP MPs is essential because the Liberal and Conservative parties are tied too closely to Corporate Canada. “You cannot trust them to look after your interests, which is why it is so important to have a strong contingent of New Democrats there, to keep those parties honest, but also to ensure that the issues that matter to you are given voice, whether it’s health care, the environment, or workers’ rights.”
Facing ongoing upheavals from the Trump administration in Washington, MacGregor said an experienced representative is needed in Ottawa. “With the uncertainty we are facing, Parliament is going to be recalled pretty quickly, you need someone in there who knows what to do from day one.”
Green Party of Canada candidate Kathleen Code said the three ‘status-quo’ parties have to be held accountable for the situation Canada finds itself in a quarter of the way through the 21st Century, and that it’s time for change.
“Here we are in 2025, look at the situation that we’re in and consider that it’s the three status-quo parties that have brought us to this point, where we can no longer afford our own lives,” she said. “I think that’s a really sad statement for us, to be where we are in a country as rich as Canada.”
She said, “We are the party of the people; we are not the party of the corporations, we don’t have any baggage, we don’t owe anything to anybody, we speak purely from the heart out of compassion and kindness and believe that we need to raise everybody up.”
It’s important to have a Green Party perspective at the table, she said.
She pointed to her experience and success as the Chair of the Eco Forestry Institute Society. “I’m part of the strategic team that took three years, raised a million dollars, and kept most of the Eco Forest in the public domain.” Code also cited her involvement in the Fairy Creek movement, an experience that gave her a deeper understanding of “how indigenous sovereignty, title, and rights work.”
“I know how government works, I know communications, I used to write a lot of briefing notes, and I’m simply a policy wonk, and I believe we really need this voice.”
The Chemainus Residents Association identified and asked the community to prioritize questions that would be put to candidates at the April 15 all-candidates meeting…
In this episode of Entrapment Lucinda and her son Manny visit her brother, who is creating a mural in a back alley in downtown Victoria, BC. Larry is living rough and homeless, and Lucinda hasn’t seen him for more than five years. Manny has never met his uncle. They are reconnected by Brenda Tanner, owner of the Inner Worlds Gallery and the back wall where Larry’s imagined world view is emerging stroke by stroke. Ten years on, Manny will compose a poem entitled Blood Red memorializing this encounter….
“Oh my god, aren’t you handsome?”
I liked Brenda Tanner the moment I met her. Liked her so much it felt sort of awkward because I didn’t have a right to feel so intimate so fast. She had stooped on her haunches to introduce herself to Manny, who was obviously thrilled to have a grownup—a beautiful, charming, cultured grownup—treat him like royalty. He giggled and beamed.
“Hi,” I said, interrupting their moment. “I’m Lucinda… Lucinda MacDonald.”
She took a moment to squeeze Manny’s shoulder, then stood up, turning toward me. Her delightfully startled, wide-open greeting took my breath away.
“Larry’s sister?” she asked.
I nodded, entranced by the musical timbre of her voice. Everything about her made me shiver with envy and joy. How can anyone be so beautiful, I wondered.
“I’m so glad you’ve come,” she touched my arm consolingly.
“He’ll be pleased to see you, and…?” She glanced down at Manny.
“That’s his nephew, Manny,” I said. “They’ve never met.”
“Well, let’s set that straight. I was just closing up, so let me get my keys.”
“There’s a gate…”
“I know. I lock the parking lot up at night.” She explained that Larry got in and out via a back lane, wriggling through a narrow opening between a chainlink fence and his wall. “If he wasn’t so skinny, he could never do it.”
The remark nudged gently. How did Larry get so skinny? And how did he get so lost?
“Has he told you anything about his past? His family life?”
Brenda chuckled, “Larry’s not much of a talker. He speaks with his brush for the most part.”
“It’s a long story, a horror story. I’m not surprised he hasn’t put it into words.”
Rattling the gate open, Brenda ushered us into the parking lot. “He might be in his tent,” Brenda guessed, nodding toward a blue fabric dome at the far end of the lot. For a moment I felt like a mendicant approaching some sort of sanctifying shrine to do homage. I shrugged the thought off. “Larry?” Brenda coaxed as we approached. “You’ve got visitors.”
No response. The tent remained perfectly still, the hunched form of a frightened animal waiting to be attacked. “Larry,” she repeated softly, then gestured for me to say something, inclining her head toward the tent.
“Larry, it’s Lucinda. Please. I’d love to see you. We’ve missed you.”
For a moment, silence; then the rustling of fabric; then a relapse into silence.
“I’ve brought your nephew Manny with me. He’d like to meet you.”
More rustling; then a hand unzipped the tent’s flap; and Larry’s head popped out like a prairie dog’s. Squinting, he looked at Brenda, then me, then Manny, and smiled—a crooked, broken smile, but at least we had something to fix, something to work on.
I collapsed onto my knees and took his head in my hands. “I love you,” I whispered, trying my best not to cry. “Please let me love you!”
Manny edged up close to us. I couldn’t see him but felt his tiny presence, then his hand on my neck, and his other hand on Larry’s neck, and his cheek against my scalp. “And Manny loves you, too,” I smiled—the most pathetic, feeble smile I could summon, hoping that they could feel my joy as we huddled in our clumsy embrace, shipwrecked under a sea of sky.
Larry took us on a tour of his mural.
“He’s speaking!” Brenda whispered.
The words tumbled out of him awkwardly, as if he was an immigrant with a poor command of English. And his stuttering made him stall and start like a misfiring engine, but he was excited to be showing Manny his wall and pushed through his shyness and disability. “Th… th… thaaat’s Wharf Street,” he pointed to the centre of the scene. Victoria’s skyline, looking north, formed a jagged edge running the entire length of the parking lot.
The thought occurred to me that Manny could have walked up that imaginary road into the painting’s vanishing point about a third of the way up the wall.
“What’s there?” Manny pointed up at the white brickwork of the Inner Worlds gallery.
“Tha… tha… thaaat’s going to be the sky.”
“Wouldn’t all those bricks fall down and kill all those people in the street?” Manny giggled.
Larry laughed. Not the condescending laughter of an adult who knew better, but the conspiratorial hooting of a friend. “Well,” he said. “We just have to save the day, aaa.. aaa… and paint those bricks away. Poof! Gone!” He gestured grandly with a sweep of his arm. “We’ll make them into a black fabric sky, then poke some holes through it so people can see the starlight, then set it on fi… fi… fire at the end of Wharf Street with a blazing red ball of a sun.”
Manny scrunched his face into a mischievous frown. “But the sun’s over there,” he challenged, pointing west, over the rim of our brick-and-mortar-canyon toward the glare of the late afternoon sun. ‘And you can’t see stars in daytime.”
“Why,” Larry huffed. “I can put the sun anywhere I want. It can shine out anyone’s ar… ar… armpit…”
We all laughed at his teasing schtick.
“Aaa… aaa… as for the stars, only people with imaginations can see ‘em shining in broad daylight. People like you!” He pointed like a revivalist preacher issuing a godly commandment at my son, smirking at his own drama.
Never had I seen Manny look so pleased with himself. So proud!
“Tell you what,” Larry said. “When the time comes, I’ll get you to put a few stars in that black-velvet sky. Whaa… whaa… Whaddya think of that?”
“Yes!” Manny pumped his fist.
Brenda beamed, radiant as a gentle sun in our shadowed courtyard. I couldn’t help loving her, wanting her, but suppressed that secret desire, crushed it because I was afraid my love would destroy her, and me with her. I wasn’t even sure we could become friends but was prepared to put up with my yearning just so I could be close to her.
I’m haunted by that wondrous reunion with my brother. If things hadn’t ended the way they did, I might have let it settle in my subconscious, like a photo pressed between the pages of a family album. But things did come to an awful end, and that memory has become an inflaming spirit, burning through me like the blood-red sun that spills its molten light down Wharf Street in Larry’s mural. Ten years on, Manny memorialized that painting in a poem.
Blood Red
I’m walking down the avenue In the middle of my day, Thinking nothing’s old; nothing’s new Which means I’ve lost my way. Don’t know where I’m going Don’t know what’s worth knowing There’s no such thing as growing, Everything stays the same.
People come; people go We laugh, we drink, we clap, we cheer Stand loud ovations to end our shows, Though nothing’s changed, and nothing’s clear We can’t know where we’re going And there’s not a thing worth knowing And there’s no such thing as growing In this for-ever-saken here.
I imagined once a blood-red ball, A blistering nova casting rays Erupting atop a star-lit wall Exploding my day-today. I’d forgotten where I’m going, Had lost what once was knowing, Was shrunken, inward-growing, In a world become deranged.
I do love walking barefoot inside my shoes and socks, to feel the ground beneath my soles and sense what I am not.
To walk the earth quite naked, cloaked in shirt and tie, warmed by the sun upon my back beneath my slice of sky.
I never feel embarrassed to show just who I am to all my fellow creatures alive upon this land.
They’re my boon companions, although they’re poorly dressed. They scrabble, claw, and bite, and chew, and do their very best to survive upon this planet, this spinning ball of dust, that is our one and only home, in the universe of us.
How can you be a symbol of my love inanimate, cold, and barren as you are?
How can a far flung chunk of star spinning slowly, majestically in my night’s sky reflect the truth of who we are of me and mine?
I look up through an imagined pane… And there you are a distraction an abstraction searching for its name, sailing through my spangled dark, brighter than any spark of heaven’s sequins.
And yet? A mystery to me.
Surely there’s a science to this madness, to your slow motion pirouette that matches mine. You draw me to you and I you to me, clasped in an eternal whirl, a planetary skirl that? Changes the levels of my restless seas and the courses of my inner tides.
And yet? This is nonsense!
I awaken, and you are gone the fading notes of a forgotten song. I roll over in my fallen form and there’s the truth, beside me all along, my better half.
Thank you for your dignified, unflinching response to the assault on our status as an indpendent nation by the president of the United States. Your measured but unwavering pushback to Donald Trump’s crass bullying has exemplified the true nature of Canadianism—modest pride. You have shown by your example the difference between ‘strength’ and ‘power.’
A strong leader doesn’t bluster and blunder. He doesn’t resort to threatening insinuations and unwarranted punishments. He acts on principle and treats others who hold different views respectfully as he works toward resolution. He doesn’t back down when confronted by taunts and threats. A strong leader respects the rights and boundaries of others because he knows when mutual respect collapses irreparable damage ensues.
A ‘leader’ who relies on power to get his way is the antithesis of ‘strong.’ The word that sums up that brand of ‘leadership’ best is ‘fascism.’ The hallmarks of fascism are: a cult mentality demanding hero worship; the selective targeting of enemies, who become the focus of militant, xenophobic reaction; denigration and vilification of political opponents—who can never be seen as colleagues; the usurpation and abuse of power that is rightly vested in the state and its offices; the unprincipled use of that power.
You, Prime Minister Trudeau, have demonstrated strength in the face of unmitigated power. You have done so on behalf of Canadians and the international community of nations. You have truly represented the majority of Canadians, and we are proud of your resolve.
I say this as a citizen whose vote has not gone to the Liberal Party of Canada but has admired your restraint and focus during a turbulent epoch. Donald Trump isn’t the first politician or activist to use the divisive tactics of the extreme right to undermine your stature as the elected leader of Canada. The vituperative practitioners of right-wing character assassination have sown the seeds of hatred and virulent abuse from within, and you have been a target of their rage.
You continued to lead the nation with dignity and focus.
Under your leadership, the negative intent of Donald Trump’s assaults has resulted in a positive outcome. They have galvanized Canadians to ‘stand on guard’ for their nation and its true values. We have reclaimed our flag and will fly it with resilience and modest pride.
Donald Trump and Elon Musk aren’t stupid in the normal sense of the word. They share what might be called ‘lizard smarts.’ They have perfected the ‘art of the deal’, know how to zero in with lazer-focus exclusively on self-interest, and have egos that can’t adapt to any sense of common good or even decency. Which is to say, they’re smart enough to be stupid on a monumental scale. They conflate the meanings of ‘strength’ and ‘power,’ and, as a result, are taking the world down a disastrous road with their grand project: the United States of America Inc.
What’s the difference between a government and a corporation? Two phrases sum up that distinction quite nicely: governments, to quote Abraham Lincoln, are ‘of the people, by the people, for the people’; the corporate mentality is ‘survival of the fittest’ in a dog-eat-dog world where corporate loyalty is to shareholders, not citizens.
Trump, Musk, and Company are not just blurring those lines; they’re going as far as they can as fast as they can to erase them entirely, imposing corporate ethics and strategies on institutions intended to serve a totally different purpose.
One of the first tenets sworn to by members of the business elite is to shun all ‘externalities’—that is, don’t factor environmental, social, or political costs into anything you have to do to sustain and grow profitability. Global warming is a negative byproduct of our operations? Not my problem. People are forced to work in unsafe, unhealthy environments to keep costs down? Let ’em find a job somewhere else. Our operations can only continue with the support of a brutal, fascist regime? Just make sure that doesn’t make it into our annual report to shareholders, especially if that fascist regime is taking root in the Oval Office.
So what will the United States of America Inc. look like once it’s fully fledged? Well, let’s just say no self-respecting eagle would deign to be the avian embodiment of a nation governed by such crass, shortsighted ideals.
Let’s look at a couple of emergent examples. Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskyy was asked to leave the White House recently after a public row with Trump. One of Trump’s comments was “you’ve got no cards to play,” when Zelinskyy refused to knuckle under to the CEO of USA Inc.’s demands that he sign an agreement granting USA Inc. access to Ukraine’s rare metals without having negotiated any adequate provisions for future security for Ukraine from attacks by USA Inc.’s friend and partner, Russia.
Trump sees the weaponry and money provided to Ukraine in the war with Russia as a drain on USA Inc.’s balance sheet that requires payback; Zelenskyy, who has seen more than 400,000 Ukrainians soldiers and 12,500 civilians killed or wouded since Russia invaded in 2022, sees Ukraine as the bulwark against Russia’s military ambitions in Europe. That this Oval Office disagreement was vented in public, with the TV cameras rolling, is yet another instance of Trump’s gameshow politics, which got very high ratings in Putin’s Russia.
‘You’re Fired!’ has become the clarion call of the Trump-Musk administration and United States of America Inc. Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelenskyy was fired at a staged event, while the cameras rolled and the world watched with shock and disgusted awe. Canada’s ‘governor’ Prime Minister Justin Trudeau was fired with what some took to be a dismissive troll, but are now realizing is a gangster’s tactic to persuade citizens of the 51st State to knuckle under and make the threat of unjustified trade tariffs ‘go away.’ A ‘Fork in the Road’ buyout was thrust into the inboxes of 2.3 million American federal employees Jan. 28 giving them until Feb. 6 to accept or else…
There’s a common thread to all these examples—and plenty more in the works. Federal employees, allies, anyone who doesn’t fit into the corporate gameplan of United States of America Inc. is treated like an enemy and tossed into the street like human garbage.
What does this business model mean for the future of United States of America Inc.’s citizens, and citizens of the world?
People will be excluded from the government’s calculations and society’s benefits unless they contribute to ‘profitability.’
Other nations are not the concern of USA Inc. unless they contribute to profitability.
Global stability and sustainability are of no concern to USA Inc. because they represent a net loss and don’t contribute to short-term profitability.
Morality, decency, and compassion in any form become unsupported and insupportable burdens because they do not contribute to USA Inc.’s profitability.
Question: Who will benefit most from all the newfound profits that are going to be wrung out of the domestic market and the world by United States of America Inc.?
Clue: It’s not likely to be the ordinary guys MAGA man pretends are his buddies.
Follow-up question: What’s are the biggest cards Trump thinks gives him an unbeatable hand—the ace-king combo he just knows will make him winner in this corporate takeover?
To anticipate the decisions and actions of Donald Trump you have to set aside many things you value most and likely take for granted. Do you respect treaties and friendships? Forget it. Do you value straightforward, honest answers to questions instead of slippery deceptions and outright lies? How naive! Do you think the ultimate purpose of a nation is to benefit all its citizens? You rube!
Only when we blinker ourselves with lizard-like focus on self-interest, insatiable greed, billionaire cronyism, and bloated egoism will we begin to gain an approximate understanding of the unprecedented national vandalism that is being perpetrated in the USA from the Oval Office. I say ‘approximate’ because, for most of us a perspective from the bawling scowling vantage of what has become America’s lowest office is unimaginable—we simply cannot become depraved and psychopathic enough to appreciate how bad the worst of humanity can be.
Let’s consider a couple of examples: Trump’s bluster and bullying about Ukraine; And his success in getting Canadians to boo the American National Anthem at sporting events.
Trump said he would end the war in Ukraine within days of coming into office. He never said how, and his virulent supporters didn’t care to ask. Even his opponents didn’t press him very hard on that one, but I don’t think everyone is surprised that his first step is a tête-à-tête with his good friend Vladimir Putin that excludes everyone else, representatives from Ukraine not excepted.
We have to ask ourselves: What is Trump really hoping to achieve with this stratagem, which has the leaders of Europe in a flap? What is the ultimate gameplan from a lizard’s-eye point of view—a prospect so unsettling that no one is daring to articulate it pubically lest it come true?
Could he be signalling his pal Putin with an under-the-table offer to divide North America and Europe into separate spheres of influence? Does he know from the outset that the terms of any possible agreement negotiated between the US and Russia will almost certainly be unacceptable to Ukraine, and will be rejected by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, which in turn would allow the US to end its support for Ukraine?
Or better yet, that a deal could be forced on Ukraine, which would allow Trump to crow and the US to stand down, get out, and leave it up to Putin to decide when the time might be right to break the truce and invade again?
Not saying that’s a fact, but I think it should be on the whiteboard as a strong possibility as world leaders consider their responses to MAGA Round 2—as in Make America Gangsterland Again—especially the part about divvying the world up into spheres of influence. Just wondering when China might be invited to take over its Asian sphere of influence.
Then there’s the chorus of booing whenever the American National Anthem is played at any arena on Canadian soil. That’s music to Trump’s ears. It means he’s got us just where he wants us—drowning out a song every red-blooded American has been taught to reverence since kindergarten, a desecration committed on network TV, no less. What better way to inflame the patriotic fervour of his most loyal supporters, and give them a cudgel to pummel any traitor who would dare defend such sacrilege or the nation that committed it?
Never mind that Trump has repeatedly denigrated our own nation and its Prime Minister, or that he has welcomed Canada to become the 51st state with jests worthy of a clown and threats revealing his true nature as a gangster. Forget the fact that some of his more virulent thugs are calling for the immediate ‘violent’ invasion of Canada and its takeover as a ‘territory,’ not a state. All that pales in significance compared to the booing of ‘the land of the free’ and ‘the home of the brave’ at a hockey game.
Again, the wizard of sleaze has us in a lose-lose bind: Express our anger and disgust, and give him more ammunition to pummel us with, preparing the ground for some type of final aggression; or keep our yaps shut and be characterized as a nation of wimps, easily overrun and not worthy of statehood at any level.
Trump’s version of ‘freedom’ means the right of the powerful to dictatorial control over the rest of us. It’s the oligarchs’ and fascists’ destiny—the right of the fittest—to take over the earth, and they’re not going to wait around to inherit it. They are banking on the pervasive surveillance, propagandizing, and control mechanisms of the digital era to keep them from the fate of their fascist predecessors.
Will history prove them right? Or will the rest of the world—including at least half the citizens of the US—prove them wrong?
Our American friends are too shell-shocked with the wrecking ball makeover of their own homeland under the rule of Trump and Elon Musk to protest loudly against a wholly unjustified assault on a neighbour and former ally. That’s part of Trump’s master plan—hurricane politics. The civilized world should be preparing for the worst and, at the same time, reaching out to those in America who want to restore decency and integrity to the White House.
The Good Book says: Know thine enemy. For most of us, it’s impossible to plumb the depths of Trump’s truly psychopathic mind or the extent of his unrestrained power. But we have to imagine the unimaginable to prepare ourselves for what’s to come.
I have never been called upon until now to defend my country and the democratic values our flag stands for. But I won’t shirk, now that there is a need for Canadians of every generation to stand on guard.
Before I get into that, though, I want to reach out to our friends south of the world’s longest undefended border and say: I am not your enemy, but the actions of your president and his ardent supporters are forcing me to think like one.
Whether you label it ‘trolling’ or ‘hard bargaining,’ when the leader of the world’s most powerful nation mocks my prime minister and refers to my 40 million fellow citizens as residents of ‘the 51st state’ alarm bells go off. It’s all hands on deck.
I’m too old to lace up my boots, shoulder a rifle, and march off to war, but I won’t sit idly by and watch an aggressive, crude, tyrant threaten my country and seemingly position himself to wage war against us.
President Trump’s political sleights of hand are as insidious and odious as they are obvious. Create an enemy, focus your supporters’ attention on your strength and determination to defeat the target of your concocted rhetoric, and get on with the business of dismantling your own nation amidst the mayhem.
If you can’t stop this madness from your side of the border, I can assure you, we will martial every resource and take whatever steps we must to stop him from this side. I don’t mean this as an insult, but I will never be an American; I am and always will be Canadian.
My father, along with thousands of Canadians, enlisted in the fight against fascism in the Second World War. Never in my bleakest imaginings did I foresee the need for similar commitments and vows against our closest friend and ally nine decades later.
But our determination must be voiced now so our neighbours to the south will know what they are getting into if they allow their president to continue down the road he’s taking. There will be no winners if our friendship is damaged, only losers – except for the few who believe that ‘survival of the fittest’ is the only tenet of sound policy, and that warfare in any manifestation, doesn’t need any sort of justification other than the dictates of sheer greed, power, and unbridled egotism.
