Nancy's Notes

“When memory fades, comfort takes its place in the sand.” Yesterday, all hell broke loose in the craziness of American politics. And today? Today we mark 81 years since the hell that was Juno Beach, the day when young Canadians stormed the shores of Normandy, not for ego or empire, but for freedom. For democracy. For the world.

And yet this morning, I’m sitting on a beach in Mexico surrounded by tourists arguing over which billionaire grifter is more righteous, Donald Trump or Elon Musk. Honestly, it’s hard to believe this is what we’re actually talking about.

Yesterday, Elon Musk, under pressure, or perhaps just playing one of his usual tech-cult chess games, teased the release of the Epstein files. Yes, those Epstein files. The ones that have been passed around like ghost stories for years. The timing? Not accidental. There are very real whispers that government contracts tied to SpaceX and Tesla may be on shaky ground. And just like that, Musk suddenly found his moral compass, or his panic button. Predictably, Trump couldn’t let it go unchallenged. Musk, once held up by MAGAland as the messiah of free speech and dogecoin-fueled disruption, was now a backstabber. A traitor. And the same people who, less than 24 hours earlier, had practically deified the man were now blaming him for “betraying” Trump.

Let’s not pretend this is about principles. This is about power. Money. Blackmail. Leverage. And control. And I’ve got a front-row seat, poolside. I didn’t say much. I’ve been trying to behave. Trying to enjoy this trip without jumping headfirst into the madness that seems to follow wherever Americans gather in a group larger than three. But I swear, it’s getting harder. The level of disconnection from reality, or maybe the full submission to a manufactured version of it, is exhausting.

I hear conversations that start with Elon and end with Hunter Biden. I hear people still claiming Trump is the victim of a political witch hunt, still insisting he’s the smartest, most persecuted man on the planet. I hear praise for his “brilliance,” while ignoring the fact that he just congratulated the German Chancellor for his English, the same Chancellor who studied and worked in the United States for years and could probably recite Trump’s real estate fraud charges in fluent legalese.

And what’s most alarming is that these aren’t people without resources or access to information. Many of them are educated. Employed. Some are in positions of influence. But somehow, that hasn’t stopped them from falling hook, line, and conspiracy into the abyss of Trumpism.

It’s cult behavior, not just politically, but psychologically. Trump isn’t just a man to these folks; he’s an identity. A belief system. A golden calf with a spray tan. And now, apparently, Musk is being cast out for failing to bow deeply enough.

The irony, of course, is that both of these men have more in common than their fans want to admit: towering egos, trail of lawsuits, disdain for institutions, a thirst for chaos, and an allergy to accountability.

And all of this, this circus, this crumbling pageant of power, is unfolding on the very day we remember Juno Beach.

Eighty-one years ago, young Canadians (and their allies, men many still teenagers, landed on the shores of France in one of the most pivotal battles of the Second World War. They didn’t do it for fame. They didn’t do it to trend on social media. They did it because the world was in peril, and they answered the call.

And today? We’re watching billionaires play truth-or-dare with international secrets while half the internet cheers and the other half shrugs. The contrast is nauseating. What was once sacrifice is now spectacle. What was once duty is now branding. And we wonder why the world feels like it’s teetering.

It’s not just that we’ve allowed people like Trump and Musk to gain this kind of power. It’s that we’ve normalized it. We’ve handed them the megaphone, the microphone, the stage, and called it leadership.

And now, we’re left with a global reality that feels more like a satire. War in Europe. Authoritarianism rising. Environmental collapse accelerating. Democracy unraveling. And instead of facing it head-on, we’re consumed with loyalty tests between two of the most self-serving men alive.

The world is on fire, literally and figuratively, and we’re still arguing about which one of them has the bigger, better truth.

We owe more than this. To history. To each other. And to those who died believing we would do better.

Tonight, I’ll go to dinner. I’ll raise a glass. And I’ll keep listening, because I always do. But I’ll also remember who I am, a Canadian, a believer in democracy, and someone who still thinks that truth matters more than ego.

Because 81 years ago, our young men waded into hell for something real. The least we can do is recognize when we’re living through a cheap, hollow rerun, and call it what it is.

There are days in a country’s life that feel bigger than headlines, days that echo, quietly but clearly, with history. Yesterday was one of those days.

From the horse drawn carriage arrival of King Charles III and Queen Camilla, to the Speech from the Throne, to the laying of the wreath at the National War Memorial, it was one of those rare days in Canadian political life that hits at something deeper than just policy or protocol.

I’ve said before, and I’ll say again, I don’t quite know where I stand on the monarchy. I teeter. I hover somewhere between acknowledging the symbolic weight they carry, and questioning whether we still need that weight at all. But… yesterday felt different.

There was something quietly profound in the way it all unfolded. The King’s interactions with Canadians; from people walking the streets, to students, to Members of Parliament and justices of the Supreme Court, felt authentic.You could see it mattered to him, perhaps especially after the difficult first year of his reign. And I imagine, standing where his mother once stood, that meant something deeply personal for him as well.

The weather could not have been more perfect. The backdrop of Parliament Hill, even with the ever-present cranes that have become a permanent part of the skyline, stood tall and dignified. And then came the moments of tradition and ceremony that hit me harder than I expected. The Usher of the Black Rod, summoning MPs to the Senate chamber with purpose and ceremony, felt both formal and commanding. It was fun, yes, but it was also weighty, steeped in centuries of history and meaning. The Riverdance drummers, their rhythm and cry echoing in the air, brought an emotional charge that caught me off guard.

When the procession reached the National War Memorial, and O Canada played just as the F-18s roared overhead, it was one of those full-body moments. My breath caught. And as those jets tore across the sky, I felt the same wave I always do in those moments. You all know that military flyovers are personal for me. They always have been.

And of course the centrepiece: the Speech from the Throne.

Now I’ve already read and studied the mandate letter. I know what’s expected from this government in terms of policy. The speech did its duty on that front. But that’s not what stayed with me.

What stayed with me was the tone. The intentionality. The message that was for Canada, but also very much for the world.

“When my dear late mother, Queen Elizabeth II, opened a new Canadian Parliament in 1957, the Second World War remained a fresh, painful memory… Today, Canada faces another critical moment.”

That line alone bridged generations. It reminded us that history doesn’t live in textbooks alone, it walks beside us in real time. And that once again, we are standing at a crossroads.

“Democracy, pluralism, the rule of law, self-determination, and freedom are values which Canadians hold dear…We must be clear-eyed: the world is a more dangerous and uncertain place than at any point since the Second World War.”

This wasn’t filler. This wasn’t just constitutional fluff. It was a deliberate signal, a reaffirmation of what we stand for, not just in theory, but in practice. And it wasn’t just domestic reassurance. It was international positioning.

And then, this line, one I will not forget:

“All Canadians can give themselves far more than any foreign power on any continent can ever take away.”

That’s it. That’s the essence of sovereignty. That’s the sentence we should be talking about. It’s pride without arrogance. Strength without noise. It’s Canada telling the world: we are here, we are prepared, and we are not alone.

And here’s the part that was so strategically elegant: the name of the President of the United States was not mentioned by name. Despite his being the obvious audience for this speech that omission was powerful. Intentional. His presence hung in the air, referenced obliquely in the contrast between Canadian values and the rising threats abroad.

This speech was about Canada, standing in its own authority, reaffirming our sovereignty, our alliances, and our unwavering sense of who we are on the global stage.

This is the Canada that welcomes, that leads, that builds. This is the Canada that doesn’t chase relevance, it earns it. The speech made clear that while the world may be in turmoil, our path is steady. Thoughtful. Collaborative. And yes, sovereign.

I’ll review the government policy parts of the speech in the coming days. But I wanted to get this down while it was still raw, before the political analysts pick it apart and before the news cycle moves on.

Because when King Charles ended his remarks, he left us with a line that deserves to be remembered far beyond this single day.

“As the national anthem reminds us, the true north is indeed strong and free.”

And I, for one, believe that. I believe it in the skies above the War Memorial. I believe it in the sound of our anthem. I believe it in the weight of our history and the promise of our future.

Indeed!

Today, I Packed My Pride

As I was preparing my suitcase yesterday for an upcoming trip out of the country, I did something I’ve never really done before: I stopped to admire the little red Canadian flag tag clipped to my luggage. It’s plastic. Nothing fancy. But in that moment, it felt like everything. That simple red tag reminded me of who I am and where I’m from, and this morning, I’m feeling it deeply.

Because yesterday, Canada reminded me why I love this country. From the opening of the new session of Parliament, to the respectful election of the Speaker of the House, to the first words spoken by our new Prime Minister, Mark Carney, it just felt good. It felt hopeful. It felt like democracy, not chaos. And yes, I know there will be debates, disagreements, and challenges ahead. But I also know that what we saw wasn’t performative or rage-fuelled. It was respectful, steady, and real.

And that’s something we can’t take for granted right now.

Because let’s be honest, the contrast with what’s happening south of the border is staggering. There, leadership is defined by late-night rants from a man who seems one social media post away from igniting a global crisis. There, Memorial Day is overshadowed by narcissism instead of solemn remembrance. There, tone has been obliterated, and decency has become optional.

Today in Canada, tone still matters. We still show up for each other, for our institutions, and for the values that have shaped this country, even when we don’t always agree.

And while not everyone loves the monarchy, I’ll admit: I’m kind of into the pageantry today. King Charles and Queen Camilla will ride in a carriage through Ottawa, welcomed with full military honour, before delivering the Speech from the Throne in Canada’s Senate. It’s symbolic, yes. But sometimes symbols matter. Because structure, tradition, and dignity help us remember who we are. And right now, I think we need that.

We have so much in common with the United States, European settler roots, immigrant foundations, a shared border, a deep cultural bond. But we’re also different. And we need to hold onto that difference. Especially when we hear things like the President of the United States claiming our border was “drawn with a ruler.” Really? I’d love to know what map he’s looking at. From Ontario and the Great Lakes to the twists and turns of Quebec and Atlantic Canada, our border is anything but straight. It’s complex, beautiful, and hard-won, just like the country it outlines.

And that’s the thing. Canada isn’t perfect. We have work to do, on reconciliation, on inequality, on defending democracy against disinformation. But we still show up. We still respect the process. And we still understand that a functioning democracy doesn’t have to be loud to be strong.

So maybe this post is just a love letter. A bit of ramble. A bit of red and white. A bit of “Yay, Canada.” But it’s also a reminder.

A reminder that today, our democracy is on full display. A reminder that tone is everything. A reminder that some plastic luggage tags carry the weight of a lifetime of pride.

And maybe, just maybe, in a world that sometimes feels like it’s spinning off its axis, Canada is still one of the few places quietly holding the centre.

So Canada, please, be who you are. Know who you are. Know how fortunate we are to live in this incredible, imperfect, determined country.

And for anyone watching from afar, especially from south of the border: Our sovereignty is not up for discussion. It is absolute. It is earned. It is non-negotiable.

Long may we wave our flag.

While the House Burns, Two Guys Bring Buckets

There’s a fire burning in Alberta, slow in some places, raging in others, and most days, it feels like the people in charge are too busy stoking the flames to care about the damage. But while the government fans the smoke of fake sovereignty and political theatre, two guys have shown up with buckets but we are going to need more buckets and people to carry them.

Because there’s a particular kind of madness unfolding here. The kind where a government that can’t deliver health care or transparency suddenly wants to deliver us from Canada. Cue the fireworks, the federal finger-pointing, and the WestJet seat-sale version of a sovereignty conversation. It’s tempting to ignore it. I did. For a while.

Because surely no one is actually buying this snake oil in bulk, right? But then you start to realize: while you were rolling your eyes, someone else was rolling out the velvet rope to their own little constitutional cosplay convention. And even if it’s a circus, it’s still dragging the whole crowd with it. That’s when it stops being funny.

Which is exactly why I want to talk about Thomas A. Lukaszuk and Ken Chapman, two guys who are doing the opposite of that. They’re not chasing a spotlight. They’re not selling us an identity crisis with a side of fake nationalism. They’re just trying to make things actually better. And let me tell you, in this province right now, that is borderline subversive behaviour.

Thomas came to Canada as a kid from communist Poland, grew up, served this province in a number of cabinet roles, including in education where, yes, we occasionally butted heads. But unlike the current crop of ideologues, Thomas showed up. He answered the tough questions. And when Russia invaded Ukraine, he didn’t just post a flag emoji, he got on the ground and helped send resources across the border via Poland. Real work. Real effort. No hashtags.

And Ken Chapman? Ken is the guy who keeps showing up to the fight with nothing but reason, research, and his belief that Alberta still has a soul. He’s been quietly leading @ Reboot Alberta for years, long before it was trendy to talk about democratic reform. And while dealing with serious personal health challenges, he’s never stopped trying to drag this province back toward something resembling sanity.

These two just teamed up again, not to win power or cash a consulting cheque, but to help us rethink what Alberta could be. Not separate, but smarter. Not angrier, but accountable. Not louder, but better.

Now, here’s the kicker: they’re doing this during a time when the UCP would really prefer you didn’t ask questions about, say, education, health care, environmental fraud, or pension theft. And if you think the sovereignty sideshow isn’t part of that, I have a privatized ER in Fort Mac I’d like to sell you.

Look, I still don’t believe Alberta will separate. But I do believe in sleight of hand. While we’re all shouting about flags and feds, the real damage is happening in the background. To kids. To seniors. To democracy.

So, if you’re asking me who deserves attention right now? It’s not the ones trying to pick a constitutional fistfight with a ghost. It’s the guys filling buckets while the house burns.

Their names are Thomas Lukaszuk and Ken Chapman.

And if the arsonists in charge want us distracted, maybe it’s time we stop watching the smoke, and start following the people carrying water.

Stay tuned to learn how you can help.

When Journalism Sells Its Soul for a Book Deal

I didn’t plan to write last night. I planned to read and relax. But once again, the media landscape served up something so ethically bankrupt, I can’t let it go. What I saw yesterday on CNN wasn’t journalism it was opportunism.

Let me be clear: I’m not a journalist. I write opinion. I try to be accurate, but I don’t wear the press pass. That title belongs to people who once chose truth over profit and public interest over personal branding. But those people are becoming harder to find.

For weeks, CNN has been running what amounts to built-in promotional segments for ‘Original Sin’ written by anchor Jake Tapper and Alex Thompson. Not labelled as ads, just conveniently timed “discussions” and “buzz-building” that blurred every line between news and marketing. The book, which drops today, centers on allegations that Joe Biden’s declining mental and physical health during his presidency was known inside the White House and deliberately concealed from the public. If Biden’s health was newsworthy, and you had inside information, why wait until book launch day to unleash it? The answer is obvious: this wasn’t about informing the public. It was about cashing in.

That’s not journalism. That’s PR with better lighting.

And yesterday Jake Tapper and assorted other CNN anchors spent the day interviewing oncologists and urologists about Biden’s newly revealed cancer diagnosis. The day before the book launch day. Let that sink in.

An anchor with a financial and reputational stake in a book about Biden’s health and presidency, interviewing medical professionals live on air about Biden’s health. One doctor from Yale refused to be dragged into the spectacle. He calmly explained that prostate cancer can progress quickly and without symptoms, and that PSA testing isn’t routinely recommended for men over 70.

But Tapper kept pressing. Kept prodding. Kept trying to extract something headline-worthy that would support the thesis of his book. And here’s the question no one at CNN seemed to ask: Why was he even on air? Jake Tapper should not have been there yesterday, and he absolutely should not have been assigned to cover Biden’s diagnosis on the day before his own book about Biden’s hidden health issues was released. The ethical breach is glaring.

To be fair, CNN isn’t the only one failing us. Canadian and American media alike have turned interviews into performance art. Last week, Vassy Kapelos, of CTV, someone I usually admire pressed Prime Minister Mark Carney three times on his “feelings” about trusting Donald Trump. He answered. “We will work together.” But she kept pushing. “Do you trust him?” “My answer stands,” he said. Because clarity doesn’t trend. Drama does.

We talk a lot about the pressure placed on journalists by political actors, especially Donald Trump. But let’s stop pretending that’s the only problem. Many journalists are complicit. This isn’t just external, it’s internal. These are editorial choices. To delay, sensationalize, monetize.

Contrast that with people like Ira Rosen, the 60 Minutes producer who resigned from CBS rather than compromise his integrity under political pressure. That’s what ethics looks like. That’s what saying no looks like.

What CNN did today wasn’t just a misstep; it was a betrayal of trust, of standards, and of a man battling cancer with grace. It’s not difficult to see when someone’s pain is being turned into a talking point. And before anyone thinks I have developed an afinity for Fox News don’t worry that conversation isn’t a social media post, it’s a fiction novel.

I still pay for subscriptions to outlets I trust, because I want journalism to survive. But what I saw today wasn’t journalism. It was a circus. And Tapper wasn’t the ringmaster. He was the carny selling the fixed games.

This may be the moment cable news hit bottom for me. Not because of partisanship. Not because of spin. But because it took something so deeply human, illness, mortality and tried to turn it into a product launch.

If this is what the industry thinks truth is worth, I want no part of it. The newsroom is no longer where stories are told. It’s where they’re sold. And yesterday, the price was integrity.

Just Leave Him the Hell Alone.

I’m not an American. I’m not a Democrat (although you all know I’m progressive). But today, none of that matters. Today, it was announced that President Joe Biden has been diagnosed with an aggressive form of prostate cancer that has spread to his bones. And while the press release strikes an optimistic tone, the reality is sobering, a Gleason score of 9 out of 10, with a 5 out of 5 grade. This is an aggressive cancer. No sugar-coating it.

That hit me harder than I expected. Maybe because I’ve lived this. My dad was 82 when his prostate cancer returned. It spread to his bones, then to his brain. And while every cancer story is its own cruel chapter, what broke my heart was watching the slow erosion of a brilliant mind, a man whose sharpness, empathy, and quiet wisdom were his gifts to this world.

So maybe that’s why I’m feeling emotional. Maybe that’s why I can’t stomach the inevitable onslaught that’s coming.

Because let’s be honest: does anyone actually believe Donald Trump is going to respond to this moment with anything resembling dignity? Empathy? Respect? Or will it be another all-caps tantrum, more finger-pointing, more nonsense from a man who somehow thinks yelling louder makes him smarter?

Joe Biden is not perfect. No leader is. But he has served. And he has suffered. He has given more of himself to public life, and endured more personal loss, than most of us could bear. And whether you supported him or not, maybe just for once, we could remember he’s also a human being. A husband. A father. A grandfather. A man facing down a brutal diagnosis.

Maybe just for once, we could ask the political jackals to stand down.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being melodramatic. Maybe this is hitting close to home. But if there was ever a moment for people to show their damn humanity, this is it.

And if Trump can’t do that? Then maybe someone should finally do us all a favour and take his damn phone away.

Update: There is a post on social media from Trumps account. It is nicely worded. It doesn’t change anything that I said above.

Just seven more days and somehow we’ve gone from a hostage deal, to a 747 donation, to threats against Bruce Springsteen and now *rump as an AI rock star. Welcome back to the circus. How the hell are we supposed to survive another four years of this?

I’m sorry if this sounds like a rant, but Donald Trump is the human equivalent of an in-flight engine fire, and we’re all trapped in coach, breathing recycled air and praying someone’s still flying the plane.

He rants. He raves. He threatens Bruce Springsteen. Yes. The Boss. That’s what Trump does when someone speaks truth with integrity and guts, he throws a tantrum. I don’t know who needs to hear this but in my world you do not mess with Bruce. Bruce Springsteen has been the soundtrack of my life for over 45 years. I was listening to him before Born in the USA hit the airwaves. That voice, that grit, that honesty, it’s been with me through heartbreak, joy, hope, fear, and every hard-earned mile. And if Donald Trump thinks for a second he can scare or silence that kind of authenticity? Buddy, you couldn’t carry his mic cable.

Then there’s the 747. Not just any 747, a supposed “gift” from Qatar. A 13-year-old, barely-used Boeing 747-8, originally ordered by the Qatari royal family but never flown operationally. Now, allegedly, it’s being offered to Trump. Wrapped in crypto-scented backchannel deals, reportedly involving hostage negotiations with Hamas. If this sounds like the plot of a bad geopolitical thriller, that’s because it is, except this isn’t fiction. This is a real-life, gold-plated red flag.

I’ve spent years around planes. This? This isn’t about secure transport or public service. This is about ego. Trump wants to roll up next to Air Force One like some Bond villain-meets-Saudi influencer, just so he can say his plane is shinier. The only thing missing is a leopard-print runway and a personalized Trump jetway announcer.

And while all this chaos unfolds, Trump’s diehards are melting down over former FBI Director James Comey saying it’s time to “8-6-4-7” Trump. And now they’re screeching that 8647 is a secret code to assassinate him?

Get real. As a former restaurant owner, let me tell you what 8-6 actually means: cancel the order. Take it off the board. Maybe, if someone’s belligerent, remove them from the premises. To confirm we never really used this as it’s considered antiquated. However! That’s it. That’s all. No violence. Just you’re done here.

And yes, I want that energy. 8-6-4-7? Let’s go, folks. Cancel the chaos. Take back the menu.

Because what Trump is doing isn’t just corrupt, it’s corrosive. To democracy. To trust. To global alliances. And yes, to Canada. Every time he destabilizes the U.S., we feel the aftershocks. In trade. In defense. In diplomacy. We are not watching from a safe distance. We are strapped to the same damn fuselage.

And I swear, as I’ve said before that if one more person tells me “it’s not your country,” I might 8-6 them. (Nonviolently. Politely. Canadianly.)

So here it is: I have no patience left for those pretending this is normal.

Don’t mess with Bruce. Don’t twist restaurant lingo into a threat. And don’t expect Canadians to stay quiet while your narcissistic demagogue tries to burn down the cockpit mid-flight.

We’re not dimming the lights. We’re not buckling in quietly.
We’re 8-6ing the entire damn flight plan.

“Pipeline Politics and the Power of Principled Disagreement”

So, apparently, we’re having a controversy, and by controversy, I mean one cabinet minister voiced a cautious take on pipelines while the Prime Minister continues pushing for a coordinated, interprovincial approach. Cue the headlines about “division” and “conflict” and all the other things that make clickbait money.

Here’s what actually happened: Prime Minister Mark Carney laid out a plan to streamline infrastructure corridors across Canada, yes, including pipelines, to reduce duplication, respect the environment, and get this country building again. Then along comes Minister Steven Guilbeault, the former Minister of Environment (and longtime environmentalist), suggesting we should still be “very cautious” as we move forward.

Do I smell dysfunction? Nope. What I smell is maturity, the kind of government where not every MP or minister is a Stepford spokesperson.

Because let’s be honest: the last time everyone was in lockstep, we got the Harper era, where MPs needed written permission to speak in the House, and “debate” was code for “don’t get caught disagreeing with the boss.” Or worse, the current GOP model, where party loyalty means kissing the ring of Donald Trump no matter how unhinged, untruthful, or unconstitutional the order of the day might be.

This isn’t that. This is what happens when a government is made up of people, not puppets. When it comes to complex files like energy infrastructure, you’d want a bit of tension between environment and economy. Otherwise, it’s not a balance, it’s a bulldozer.

And let’s be honest, if there wasn’t this kind of internal discussion, we’d be accusing the Liberals of shutting down dissent. Now we’re calling it chaos when a minister brings a different lens? Come on. You can’t call it a dictatorship one week and then whine about healthy disagreement the next.

Now, let me get personal for a second: as I have mentioned before, my husband’s been an inspector in the oil and gas industry for decades. He’s technically bilingual and has worked extensively on integrity projects, including natural gas pipelines in Quebec. And if you ever want to see environmental caution in action, follow him around a Quebec pipeline site.

As he likes to (somewhat sarcastically) say: “Never a frog nor a snake shall be harmed in Quebec pipeline construction — they are gently scooped up, patted on the head, serenaded with apologies, and placed in a five-star frog relocation spa until their habitat is fully restored.”

And you know what? That kind of care matters. That’s the kind of tension between development and preservation that defines a country like Canada, not the screamfest you get in places where science is a partisan trigger word.

We also need to stop pretending pipeline policy is either “drill baby drill” or “shut it all down.” There’s a middle path, a Canadian path and it’s called responsible development. It’s called making decisions that are both pro-growth and pro-planet. And yes, it’s called having different voices at the cabinet table.

So to the people wringing their hands about Guilbeault and Carney not singing the exact same chorus, relax. This is what it looks like when adults talk things out. We need ministers who bring different perspectives to the table, especially when we’re building the very future they’ll be held accountable for.

I don’t need my government to agree on everything. I need them to listen to each other, weigh the evidence, and make the tough calls. And I trust Mark Carney, banker, economist, and no stranger to hard conversations, to be the kind of leader who welcomes that friction. He’s not scared of principled disagreement. Frankly, he’s probably bored without it.

So no, this isn’t dysfunction. This is democracy, and it’s working.

And if the worst thing that happens this week is a cabinet minister showing signs of independent thought? Well, then we’re doing a hell of a lot better than a country where the pipeline to power starts with a lie and ends with a loyalty pledge.

“Pierre Poilievre: The Leader Who Isn’t Here But Also Won’t Leave”

As much as I didn’t want to yesterday, and believe me, I really didn’t, I found myself watching the political equivalent of a soap opera villain refusing to exit stage left. Yes, I watched that press conference. You know the one. Where Pierre Poilievre, who lost both the election and his seat, stepped up to a podium like the guy who gets fired but keeps showing up to the office because his access card still works.

Let’s be clear: he’s not the leader. His party lost. He lost. Full stop. The plan is for him to run in an Alberta by-election (of course), and win, and then stage his grand resurrection tour like some sort of prairie phoenix rising from a flaming pile of misinformation. But in the meantime? We’re told that Andrew Scheer, yes, that Andrew Scheer, is technically in charge.

Now, if Scheer is the interim leader when the House is sitting, does Pierre become the leader when it’s recess? Like some kind of Halloween werewolf situation where the full moon hits and suddenly, bam, he’s back? It’s absurd. And frankly, if Scheer is your stand-in, it’s like choosing margarine when the butter’s gone bad. Still spreadable, but you don’t want it.

Yet, Poilievre persists. He took to the mic, delivered his usual soft-spoken faux-reasonableness, and got back to doing what he does best: declaring everything broken. First it was Canada. Now it’s the government. Soon, I assume, it’ll be gravity.

He attacked Carney’s cabinet like a guy who didn’t get invited to the party, so he stood outside with a megaphone yelling that the music sucks. Never mind that Carney had to manage a complex transition, balancing institutional knowledge, regional representation, gender parity, and subject-area expertise. That’s what real governance looks like. Adults in the room, even if some of them are still unpacking.

No, I don’t love every appointment. But unlike Pierre, I don’t think democracy is a stage play where the sore loser gets to keep delivering monologues while the rest of us are trying to reset the set.

And here’s what really sticks: Poilievre doesn’t even have the grace to acknowledge that Mark Carney is extending him a courtesy he absolutely doesn’t have to. Carney has said he’ll move quickly to get Pierre’s by-election underway, as soon as legally possible. He didn’t have to. By law, he could wait up to six months to call the election and then there would be the election period. But instead, he’s taking the high road, even while Pierre’s still digging the ditch.

Let’s also be clear: this by-election comes with a $2 million price tag. That’s what taxpayers are on the hook for, just so Pierre can claw his way back into relevance. And he can’t even manage a simple thank-you, or, at the very least, a week of silence while the government tries to get back to work.

And all the while, he’s still living in Stornoway. Still acting like he never left. Still pushing the same tired lines about everything being broken, except maybe his own sense of self-awareness.

Honestly, I’d have more respect for him if he just took the summer off. Go fishing. Learn to weld. Take a vow of silence. Do literally anything except hijack our national conversation with another staged rant.

Because you know what’s coming. He’ll win that by-election in Alberta, and then we’ll be treated to photo ops of him and Danielle Smith wandering through golden canola fields like the awkward leads in a low-budget rom-com. (Tagline: “Together, they’ll break the confederation and your will to live.”)

This isn’t leadership. It’s like he’s playing dressup. And we don’t need pretend politicians right now, we need grownups. Builders. People willing to make hard, boring decisions. Not more noise from someone who isn’t even in the room.

So until he gets his seat back, and makes it official, can someone please, please, just unplug his mic?

Because as Mark Carney might say (in a tone far more composed than mine): “I’m a pragmatist.” And pragmatically? The best thing Pierre Poilievre could do for Canada right now… is disappear for a bit.

Pierre Poilievre: still unelected, still uninvited, still unbelievably loud.

Okay Alberta. This isn’t just a missed meeting. It’s a warning sign.

What you’re about to read is a letter written this morning by Patricia Forrest, a proud Inuvialuit woman and a longtime Alberta resident. She’s a mother, a grandmother, a business owner, and someone I consider one of the most extraordinary human beings I know.

She doesn’t self-identify as “political.” But she is deeply aware. Deeply involved. Deeply principled. And when she sees something wrong, she speaks up, not for attention, not for drama, but because she cares. For her family. For her community. For this province.

Today, I read her letter and immediately felt clarity. I didn’t actually have this happen but I have been waiting weeks to hear from my MLA on a Health Ministry issue. Patty’s words reminded me of everything Albertans need to pay attention to right now, because what she experienced isn’t a one-off. It’s the status quo under this current UCP government.

Patty booked a meeting with her MLA, Peter Singh, a man who once came to her door and promised to put constituents first. So she had booked an appointment and taken time off work. She showed up. His office was locked. No one came. No one called. No apology. No explanation. No respect.

If this were the exception, I’d write it off. But it’s not.

This is how it works now in Alberta. Elected officials who don’t respond. Constituency offices that go dark. Decisions made behind closed doors. Premiers who silence dissent. MLAs who toe the line or get tossed aside. And all of it wrapped in a cloak of “accountability” that vanishes the second you try to hold someone to it.

And while Danielle Smith’s government courts conspiracies and whispers sweet nothings about separation, we’re not paying attention to what’s happening right here, right now: ERs are overflowing while hospitals quietly downgrade services. Kids are waiting months for assessments while their classrooms burst at the seams. Parents are paying out-of-pocket for speech therapy, mental health care, and basic educational supports. Seniors are living in facilities with staffing levels that would make your heart ache. And yes, we’re still clawing back $200 from some of the most vulnerable Albertans on AISH.

We are not being represented. We are being managed, and barely. And we need to have the courage to say: enough. Patty did. With decency, directness, and a full heart.

This isn’t just a call-out. It’s a call in, to every Albertan who’s felt ignored, condescended to, or outright erased by the very people elected to serve them.

Let Patty’s words remind us what real leadership looks like. Because if we keep excusing this, if we keep telling ourselves “it’s not that bad”, we’re going to wake up in a province we no longer recognize.

This government talks a big game about sovereignty. But sovereignty starts with serving people. And right now, they’re not even answering the damn door.

This is the first thing you see when you walk in my back door.

They whispered to her, “You cannot withstand the storm.” She whispered back, “I am the storm.

I have always felt it applies to me and clearly also to Patty.

We need to be louder. We need to be braver. We need to be the storm.

Her full letter is included below, exactly as written:

Dear Mr. Singh,
I am writing to express my disappointment and concern regarding my recent attempt to meet with you. I had scheduled an appointment through your office for this past Friday at 1:30 PM. I took time off work to attend, yet when I arrived, the office was locked, and no one was present. I waited until 2:00 PM, but no one showed up, and my calls went unanswered. I anticipated that someone from your office would have reached out to explain or reschedule, but I have yet to receive any communication.
When you came to my door during your campaign, I specifically asked where you draw the line between toeing the party line and representing your constituents. You assured me that your constituents come first. As someone who voted for you, I expect you to honor that commitment.
As a lifelong Albertan, a mother, wife, grandmother, and business owner, I am deeply concerned about the direction in which the UCP is leading our province. I, like many others, am vehemently against separation—I am a Canadian before I am an Albertan. Moreover, I strongly oppose Bills 54 and 55, and I am troubled by Premier Smith’s scandals and corruption. From her extravagant \$65-per-square-foot carpet to her clawback of \$200 from AISH recipients, from her underfunding of AHS to her trips to the U.S. to associate with far-right figures, her decisions appear to prioritize personal and partisan interests over the well-being of Albertans.
Peter, you have been entrusted to represent us. I implore you to exercise your role with integrity and stand against the willful destruction of our province. Premier Smith’s chaos and corruption have persisted for far too long. Your constituents need you to demonstrate the strength of character to oppose this harmful trajectory and to advocate for our collective interests.
This is a critical moment in our province’s and country’s history. The decisions made now will shape how future generations remember us. Please make your stand count.

With great concern,
Patricia Forrest