#All Canadian Property Services

[reasonsforhope]

"In a historic “first-of-its-kind” agreement the government of British Colombia has acknowledged the aboriginal ownership of 200 islands off the west coast of Canada.

The owners are the Haida nation, and rather than the Canadian government giving something to a First Nation, the agreement admits that the “Xhaaidlagha Gwaayaai” or the “islands at the end of world,” always belonged to them, a subtle yet powerful difference in the wording of First Nations negotiating.

BC Premier David Eby called the treaty “long overdue” and once signed, will clear the way for half a million hectares (1.3 million acres) of land to be managed by the Haida.

Postal service, shipping lanes, school and community services, private property rights, and local government jurisdiction, will all be unaffected by the agreement, which will essentially outline that the Haida decide what to do with the 200 or so islands and islets.

“We could be facing each other in a courtroom, we could have been fighting each other for years and years, but we chose a different path,” said Minister of Indigenous Relations of BC, Murray Rankin at the signing ceremony, who added that it took creativity and courage to “create a better world for our children.”

Indeed, making the agreement outside the courts of the formal treaty process reflects a vastly different way of negotiating than has been the norm for Canada.

“This agreement won’t only raise all boats here on Haida Gwaii – increase opportunity and prosperity for the Haida people and for the whole community and for the whole province – but it will also be an example and another way for nations – not just in British Columbia, but right across Canada – to have their title recognized,” said Eby.

In other words, by deciding this outside court, Eby and the province of BC hope to set a new standard for how such land title agreements are struck."

-via Good News Network, April 18, 2024

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that.

Note: If you prefer plain text, you can read the plain text version here.

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism.

By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism.

You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry.

After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces.

This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of this post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism.

Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED.

In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them.

But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[604to647]

Brandy by the Fireplace

7.8K / Frankie Morales x City Girl!reader

Summary: When your best friend's boyfriend invites her up to the cabin he owns with his Delta Force buddies, she asks you to come along.

Warnings: None! Fluff! Insecurity and anxiety on reader's part, but Frankie makes it better (anxiety/comfort. My anxious girlies (gn) who think everyone hates them when they definitely don't? This one's for you 🥹). Nicknames because it's me. Oh, and Tom's alive?

A/N 1: Written and very late for @auteurdelabre's Trope Off Challenge - the trope here is Fish out of water because, well you know🤭🤭 Can be considered a Triple Frontier AU, or set before the events of the movie. Though I'm not sure I'm 100% satisfied with this and the word count got away from me, I still think it's cute and very seasonal - I hope others do too!

A/N 2: As I understand it, the cottage v. cabin lexiconic difference is a Canadian thing. When people think of cottage country, it's primarily the luxury getaway experience in the Muskokas. Super fancy! Celebrities cottage there (the Beckhams, Cindy Crawford) and the properties are huge lakefront estates. While in Western Canada, people primarily have cabins - they're more rugged, remote. In no way am I saying that cottages are better than cabins! They are just different - both enjoyable and picturesque in their own way. But you gotta know what you're in for, cause of packing and stuff... 😅😅

Trailer / CABIN dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘😘

This was such an effing mistake.

You sniffle as you sit cross-legged on the simple threadbare sheets covering the thin mattress that you’ve called bed for the last two nights.  You’re holding your favourite fleece sweater in your hands, looking at the scorch marks where flareups from tonight’s bonfire had jumped from the pit and burned multiple holes - the black charred spots on the fabric blurring as your tears finally spill over.

I shouldn’t have come.

A ruined sweater in and of itself wasn’t the end of world.  But a ruined sweater here? Tonight? It’s just the freaking cherry on top of the already disastrous sundae that was this weeklong vacation so far.

And you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.

When your best friend Jenny begged you to come with her to her boyfriend’s cabin for a week, you had readily agreed.  You love Benny and he and Jenny are so adorable, if not a bit too overly mushy and cheesy (“We’re the better Bennifer!  Woo - Benny and Jenny!!”).  He and his old army buddies had gone in together on a cabin on a lake about seven hours out of the city at the suggestion of their Veterans Affairs therapist – something about working the land and finding serenity in nature to help them overcome some of the harder things they’ve seen over their time in service.

It apparently did wonders for them.  Both Benny and his older brother, Will, who you had met a few times, were easy going and kind men - maybe a little rough and tumble with each other sometimes, but you didn’t see it as anything more than filial comradery and brotherly love.  Jenny assured you that Benny’s other friends, Santi, Tom and Frankie were all cut from the same cloth.

Benny had invited Jenny up to the cabin for the boys’ annual Autumn weeklong trip – taking advantage of any remaining mild weather from the end of summer to clean and close up the cabin for the Fall and Winter.  All the boys would be there and Tom’s sisters had been invited as well – Jenny begged you to come for support and of course you had said yes.

Sure, you’re a city girl through and through, but this wouldn’t be your first cottaging experience.  You fondly recall the summers and Thanksgivings you had been invited to your college roommate’s family cottage in the Muskokas: crystalline waters and lush greenery bordered the beautifully landscaped acreage upon which your still close friend’s family’s 9 bedroom-9 bath modern estate resided.  Summer days were wiled away on the built-in dock lounging and reading, and the cooler temperature evenings were spent inside by one of the several contemporary fireplaces, sipping on cocktails and nibbling on charcuterie.  It was always such a treat to go - you haven’t visited in ages, but a similar getaway right now sounds like heaven.

Your first clue that perhaps this might not be the Muskoka cottage country experience you imagined, is when the last leg of your seven-hour journey in Benny’s truck was over a 30-minute dirt road so twisty and uneven that you started to feel a little nauseous. 

When you got out of the truck, you realized the true folly of your assumptions about where you were going to be staying this week.  The property could best be described as rustic and very "nature forward", the only evidence of landscaping being the dirt worn paths that led to the different cabins.  Instead of one main house, there is a Main Cabin – consisting of a living room area, place to eat, kitchen and the compound’s one bathroom.  All guests stay in individual cabins, isolated and spaced out at various points on the large property. Each so far apart and separated by the lush, dense forest, you don't even know where they all are: Upper Cabin (Benny and Jenny), Delta Cabin (Santi), Bunk Cabin (Frankie), Screened-In Veranda Cabin (You), New Cabin (Tom’s Sisters), Outhouse Cabin (no one), Grizzly Cabin (Will and Tom).

You’re not opposed to roughing it a little, but by the error of your own expectations, you’ve come thoroughly unprepared for your week’s stay.  For one thing, your cabin (as the name would suggest), along with all the others, has no windows - only screens.  Perfect for the hot summers, but with Fall coming early this year, the clothes you packed aren’t warm enough to shield you against the chill that blows over your bed each night.  For another, you find yourself sharing space with more critters that you were expecting, and not the adorable furry types either.

The frog that came out of the one toilet made you almost consider using the outhouse up by the parking lot (almost). And when you were washing your face that first night, the realization that the running tap was the only thing that was keeping the cricket from jumping out of the sink, forced you to stifle a scream that left your throat hoarse. There are all together more bugs indoors than you had expected (since you had expected windows). 

It's definitely more rustic that you’re used to, but you really do try to make the best of it.  The last thing you want is to appear rude or snobbish about the decidedly non-luxurious state of your accommodations.  Sure, it isn’t the glamourous cottage experience you had expected, but it’s still incredibly beautiful and serene here.  Moreover, you know that every cabin and amenity on the property was built by Benny and his friends and has served incredible therapeutic purpose for each of them.  You would never want to diminish that by somehow implying that the cottage isn’t… cottaging; this place serves a much more important purpose than impressing the likes of city girls guests like you.

You also don’t forget that the entire reason you’re here is to support Jenny.  Make sure she and Benny have fun.  And they are! Inseparable, giddy, googly-eyed fun.  No way are you going to ruin her perfectly good time by letting her worry about you, not when this is the first healthy relationship she’s had in years.

And honestly, everyone is so, so nice.  Benny and Will’s Delta Force teammates are as good humoured and sweet as they are.  There’s Santiago (or Santi), the unofficial leader of the crew – his hooded brown eyes look like they could tell a hundred stories, but he keeps your group entertained with the loudest and most fantastic ones, always framing his stories so that they rib at least one of his buddies.  Tom, the eldest of the friends, is more serious – the type who might exude an intimidating gravitas if you were to meet him alone, but next to the verbose energy of Benny and Santi and under the watchful eye of his sisters, he seems to relax, smiling pleasantly and genuinely while in the comforting presence of his friends.  Will, who is just as boyishly handsome as his brother, you already know to be as easy going and funny - though maybe a little less goofy than Benny.  Despite what Jenny had slyly insinuated to you before you left, you don’t think Will has any interest in you – and with Tom’s gorgeous and outgoing sisters both vying for his attention, the circumstances aren't right to try and see if there’s anything to Jenny's (and possibly Benny’s?) matchmaking. 

The last member of the friend group is Frankie, who the guys sometimes inexplicably call ‘Catfish’ – he was noticeably reserved at first, though you soon realize that he’s just as funny and generous as the others.  Frankie's steely and calm countenance seems borne out of necessity, likely from the many years of service where his competence and levelheadedness were needed to keep the other four in check, alive.  You notice that he often sits a little further back from the group, most likely out of habit, literally watching their backs; he’s quieter and less rowdy, but never fails to join in his friends’ laughter – it’s obvious to you that he loves his brothers in arms.  Once or twice, you think you feel Franke's deep, soulful eyes pointed in your direction, but when you try to meet his gaze, those same eyes disappear beneath the brim of his worn Standard Oil cap that never seems to leave his head.  You think you probably imagine it. 

Everyone is so much fun to be around, super nice and completely welcoming of you.

They just… don’t really need you here.  Well, that seems presumptuous!  Rather, there doesn’t seem to be a place for you here the same way there is for everyone else.

It was evident from the first day when the boys pulled a small catamaran out of the boathouse and attempted to try (again, from what you’re told) to put it together and get it out on the water.  Every person was asked to help pull on the trampoline netting – when it was evident that your limited strength and poor (manicured) grip on the netting wasn’t actually doing anything except making you an extra body in the way, you were relegated to standing on the side, holding a spray can of lubricant and waiting to spray it on the track if someone needed.  No one ever did.  The trampoline never got installed, and you can’t help but think it was partially because you hadn’t been able to provide the additional muscle needed.

During the day, everyone seems to engage in some type of cabin maintenance work from an unseen to-do list: painting screens, sanding down the canoe, pulling up old raspberry bushes, fixing doors and hinges in various cabins, retiling the one shower and installing a new sliding glass door, replacing the hot water pump’s aging parts, reinforcing the mesh around the young fruit trees to deter deer, repairing the older slats on the dock, removing the beaver dam under the dock, and so on and so forth.

All things you have absolutely no qualifications to help with and would likely hinder someone who did if you tried.

Jenny wasn’t terribly handy either, but she tagged along with Benny on all his chores and he didn’t mind patiently explaining and helping her help him with his tasks - the two of them giggling and in love as they winterized the boat shed.

Everyone else seems to know their daily assignments and go about their hard and dirty labour, leaving you alone to… do nothing?  It felt rude to sit out on the lawn and relax while others did work around you.  And even inside there's not much you can do; Tom’s sisters had brought up food for the first few meals and when you asked them if you could help, they insisted that they had it in hand and told you to “go have fun”.  You chastise yourself for having not asked more questions about what you and Jenny could have brought and if you and her could have signed up to cook your share of meals.

You hide out in the Main Cabin or in your own for most of the day, reading and feeling guilty - coming down periodically to chat with people but feeling like you’re distracting them from their duties.

Even after dinner when you volunteered to help do the dishes and clean-up, you were cheerfully shooed away by Santi after you couldn’t find where to put back the cutlery, then the glasses, then the lids to the pots (which were inexplicably kept separate from the pots themselves) – you’re sure there’s a system, you just don’t know what it is.

Maybe it would be different if you knew everyone better, but this is the first time you’re meeting everyone except Benny and Will.  You don’t know any of the guys particularly well but you do know that this cabin is their special place – you don’t want be a bother or ruin anyone’s good time.

To you, it's clear that you’re not carrying your weight here - the last thing you want to be is a nuisance as well. You don’t fit in and you definitely don���t belong. 

Tonight has finally felt a little more comfortable.  After a full day of work for everyone (else) and a belly bursting dinner, the boys set up a bonfire and everyone got together to roast marshmallows and make s'mores.  In addition to looking forward to the melty treats, you were secretly glad for the warmth of the fire in the chilly evening air.  Beers were cracked, marshmallows burnt, and the stories the boys told had your sides aching from so much laughter you’re sure you’ll still feel it in the morning.  But as the fire was dying, the conversation turned to what everyone’s up to tomorrow, you once again have nothing to say that's comparable to the tasks and chores listed by the others.  When Tom comments that there are still so many things to do in order to properly winterize the cabins and that it’ll be a wonder if it all gets done, you look down at your feet - face burning from the guilt and shame of being unable to contribute when help is indeed needed.  You’re sure everyone is thinking that you’re just a freeloader from the city, or worse, lazy and unwilling to put in some work.  Suddenly the last few bites of the s'more in your hand don’t look as appetizing anymore.

You excuse yourself from the group and quickly get ready for bed before heading up to your cabin for the night.  Once settled in, that’s when you discover that your sweater is full of newly burnt holes and you lose it.

Luckily, the cabins are all fairly far apart so no one can hear your crying, but your gratitude for the isolation and quiet of the cabins is short-lived; as it's been every night, the silence of the woods in the dark is deafening.  So used to the ambient noise of the city, you find that every snap of a branch or hoot of an owl slices through the night and rings out as loud as a gunshot.  You lay in bed like each night before, unable to get comfortable or calm and falling asleep only when exhaustion overtakes you.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of chirping birds and the brightness of the morning sun punctuated by the shouts and loud chatter from down near the water where people are already starting their daily chores.  Another wave of guilt and anxiety sets in as you feel like you’ve had an undeserved lie-in - resting while everyone else got up early to do work.

On your way down to the Main Cabin, you see and wave good morning to Frankie who’s transporting relatively heavy chunks of wood tucked under his beefy arms.  You don’t ask if you can help – how could you? Each stump he carries looks like it could topple you over even if you managed to lift one. 

When you get down to the lawn, you catch Will and Tom’s sisters as they head up to one of the cabins with paint cans and brushes and Will cheerily calls to you, “Saved you some breakfast!”  His completely innocent and kind pronouncement sends your already tightly strung heart into another spiral and you try not to tear up as you call back your thanks.

You eat by yourself from the plates left out for you and feel a little better when you can at least wash them and leave them in the drying rack.  Pouring yourself the coffee that’s left in the cannister, you grimace at it’s lukewarmness, but you don’t know where the grounds are kept or even how to operate the ancient stovetop coffee maker to make more, so you make do and drink it sort of sadly as you return to the dining table and open your book.

It's here where Frankie finds you a few hours after you saw him last.

He asks kindly after your book before saying he’s going to make a fresh pot of coffee and offers to top you off; when you get up to help – he tells you he’s got it before disappearing into the kitchen.  Slightly discouraged, you sit back down; unless you spy on Frankie, there’s no way for you to learn how to make the coffee here - and you’re just debating if you should do just that when he pokes his head back in, “Do you want me to show you how to make the coffee?”

Eagerly, you nod and hurry to join him in the kitchen, making note of where the fresh coffee grounds are stored and listening attentively as Frankie patiently shows you how to work the vintage contraption that Santi rescued from a yard sale.  He smiles at your willing face, wondering why you’re so fascinated by something as mundane as their overly complicated coffee maker, but when you thank him, voice almost quivering with overly emotional gratitude, Frankie’s sure there’s more to it than he’s understanding.

He's been watching you, Benny’s girlfriend pretty friend, over the last two days and can't quite figure you out.  It’s clear that you’re not used to roughing it in these types of conditions, but you don’t complain or make fun – though there is a tinge of melancholy and anxiety to the gentleness of your expressions that he does understand all too well.  You seem sweet and friendly, and Benny certainly speaks warmly of you – but for some reason, you don’t seem entirely comfortable and Frankie wouldn’t be the Army strategist he is if he didn’t notice.  Or a very good host.

“Do you want to go for a row while the coffee drips?”

“A row?”  You look up, confused.

“Yeah, in the row boat.  Come on – this old thing takes forever. We could probably get a good way to the middle of the lake and head back before it’s done,” nods Frankie, encouragingly.

This is the first time since the disastrous catamaran trampoline that anyone has asked you to do anything with them during the day, and you’re surprised by how touched you are by the simple gesture.  Unable to find the words to express how appreciative you feel, you simply nod.

Frankie pushes the old tin boat that you saw him sealing and painting on the beach yesterday partway into the water, helping you in first before pushing the boat all the way in then jumping in himself, two big wooden oars under his arm.  He sits across from you, locks the oars into the oarlocks and starts rowing; his powerful arms rotating the paddles with ease, slicing them through the clear, calm water and gently gliding the boat across the lake.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, and you look over the side of the boat in wonder as the sand bed below slowly disappears and the water gets darker and deeper.  Sighing, you contently breathe in the fresh, crisp Fall air and enjoy the picturesque view of the far off shores and mountains before settling your gaze on the handsome man in front of you.  The ripples and flex of Frankie’s bulging muscles under his shirt as he expertly rows are near mesmerizing, every hypnotic stroke powerful and purposeful.

“You’re not having fun, are you?”

You look up, ashamed.  You've been trying so hard to hide that you're not 100% comfortable being here, it's embarrassing to get confirmation that you've failed in this regard.  Even if the others could tell you weren’t having fun, you hope you haven’t come off as an ungrateful guest or made any of your hosts feel bad.  You’re about to say so and apologize, but something about the way Frankie’s looking at you, kind and soft and not at all judgmental or accusatory, gives you pause.  It’s like he’s genuinely extending an opportunity for you to let go of what you’ve been bottling up since you got here – maybe that’s why he brought you out to the middle of the lake?  Frankie's sincere eyes bore into your own and his gentle demeanor invites you to let down your guard; deflating, you burst into tears, “I’m not!! I’m so sorry, Frankie!!”

Hurriedly, you try to compensate, “Goodness, please don’t think I’m complaining – it’s so beautiful and peaceful here, and Benny told me how much effort you guys have put into this place!  Honestly, your care and hard work really shows – everything is so nice.  It’s just really, really different from the one other cottage experience I’ve had – so I didn’t even pack right.  And I thought there would be a lot more relaxing and lazing around – I really don't know what to do with myself here.”

“Where did you cottage before?”

“The Muskokas?”

Frankie lets out such a loud, belly-shaking laugh that shakes the whole boat; you actually hold onto the sides afraid you might tip over, but find yourself beaming at having drawn out this melodic sound from the normally stoic man.

“Well, City Girl, no wonder this place was a shock to you!  The Muskokas is a very particular cottaging experience – real pretty and real glamourous.  But the rest of us?  What we have aren’t even cottages.  They’re cabins.  This is cabin country,” he laughs good naturedly.

“Right - cabins!” you grin.

“Sorry to disappoint you, City Girl.”

“No, no! Please don’t think that - I’m not disappointed at all! I just came in with the wrong expectations, that’s all.  That’s all on me, Frankie.  Really, the cabin is lovely – I was just expecting a more… cashmere sweaters and brandy snifters around the fireplace kind of a vibe.”  You hope Frankie won’t take your joke the wrong way.

Luckily, Frankie gives you another easy smile, one that reveals an adorable dimple in his right cheek you haven’t had a chance to notice before, “Yeah, we’re more of a bats in the ceiling, on-going maintenance kind of vibe.”

At this, your face falls and your own shortcomings to contribute when everyone else is working so hard claws at your chest painfully.

Frankie immediately clocks the change in your demeanor, “Hey, pretty girl, it’s okay.”

You look up at him with tears in your eyes, too distressed to notice the new nickname, “No it’s not, Frankie.  You’re right – everyone is chipping in, helping out to keep this place beautiful and running smoothly, except me.  I’m not used to this kind work, so I don’t really know what needs to get done… and even if I did… I mean you saw with the catamaran?  I’m not strong or skilled enough to do any of it.  I thought I could help out with some of the indoor stuff, like cooking and cleaning up, but I don’t know where anything is and everyone is so busy, I feel like such a nuisance bothering them even more in order to show me.  So… I don’t know what I’m doing here – it doesn’t feel right to be sitting around and reading like I’m some kind of pampered houseguest while everyone around me is working, but I also don’t think I can add value anywhere.  I just don’t think I belong out here with you guys.  And I thought I was at least hiding it well, but it's obviously noticeable how much I don’t fit in because you rowed me out here to confront me about it.  I’m sorry to be so much trouble, Frankie.”

You take a deep breath after your long speech and look down at your lap, more embarrassed than ever.

Frankie leans over from his seat, causing the boat to rock slightly and tilts your face up to his with two of his thick fingers, “You’re no trouble at all, pretty girl.  It’s okay if this place is too rustic for ya.  It’s really rustic… and that’s by design.”  He smiles reassuringly, keen to comfort you, “I know Benny told you that this cabin is sort of therapy for us guys?  We saw some... less-than-ideal things on a lot of our missions.  All our missions, actually.  The VA counsellors suggested that we try and work through having seen so much that’s been broken, and maybe even having done some of the breaking ourselves, by getting a project where we come together as a team to focus on improving and building.  It’s meant to need constant ongoing maintenance and have a never-ending list of chores so we can put our energy into building up instead of what we used to do… tearing down.  For the most part, the cabin has been good for us – working with our hands, being responsible for something that isn’t life or death, working towards a common goal where we can be together and enjoy each other’s company in a setting that’s not… exploding.”

Frankie chuckles at his little joke so not to scare you off with the intensity of the topic.  He’s relieved to see that your expression is one of sympathy and understanding, your eyes warm and gentle.  He thinks your eyes are beautiful, deep, kind – he might easily get lost in them if he didn’t remember that he’s supposed to be comforting you, “It really is meant for the five of us to be putting in the work, but I know what you’re saying, it’s not a great feeling to be left out, even if you know no one’s doing it on purpose.  I’m sorry – we should be better hosts.  You’re our guest.”

You start to shake your head in protest at this, but Frankie stops you when he picks up the oars and dips them back in the water to start rowing again, “Tell you what, it’s my turn to make lunch today - why don’t you come and help me.  I’ll show you where we keep everything so you’ll know in case you ever want to… help out in the kitchen again.  I promise you can ask me any questions you want and it won’t bother me at all.”

Perking up at Frankie’s generous offer, you nod happily, “Okay! Thank you, Frankie – that’s really sweet of you.”  It’s probably the first truly joyful smile you’ve smiled since you got here and Frankie thinks you look radiant.

The two of you glide slowly across the still lake in comfortable silence, Frankie purposefully not putting too much power into his oar strokes.  Trying to discreetly wipe your cheeks, you feel their warmth as you spy on the handsome man across from you through your tear dotted lashes.  You feel so safe and cared for - your heart grateful that Frankie noticed you were out of sorts despite having only met you a few days ago and was considerate enough to ask after you.

His teasing voice cuts through your thoughts, “Is there anything else, City Girl?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“Is there anything else that's been bothering you while you’re out here?”

You bite your lip and shake your head; Frankie has been so kind, you don’t want to push it and appear to complain.

“Come on, I know there is.  Go on, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl – there’s that term of endearment again.  This time when you hear it, your heart swells and your face flushes – and maybe your thighs press together a little, too.  To try and cover up your reaction, you spill your last embarrassing grievance, “Ummmm… it’s kind of spooky at night.”

Frankie booms another side-splitting, deep rumble of a laugh and you instantly feel better, “It’s just sooooo quiet and everyone is so far from one another.  I guess I’m used to background city noises and the feeling of people being around.  It's been a bit unsettling laying in the dark in silence, hearing every little twig snap.” You cover your eyes, “Plus I packed so poorly for the trip because I thought it was going to be a… cottage.  I definitely didn’t bring warm enough clothes.  I brought a TON of self-care stuff though – maybe I should try layering some face masks.” It feels so good to be able to lightheartedly make fun of yourself again.

Frankie laughs with you, then looks thoughtful, “Ok, ok, the chilliness I think I can help you out with.  The spookiness… got to circle back to that.”

“Thanks, Frankie.”  You mean it sincerely.  Even having been able to talk to him about your unease makes you dread the upcoming night a lot less.

Back at the beach, Frankie hops out of the boat and reaches in to help you out - when your fingers touch his, a little spark lingers and your heartbeat picks up a bit.  Hand in hand, the two of you walk back to the Main Cabin together, not letting go until you enter the kitchen.

---

After Frankie patiently shows you the pantry, the freezers, and where all the kitchen items are, he makes sure you have a passing familiarity with everything before the two of you make wraps for everyone.  You find him to be endearingly funny, terribly sweet, and a wonderful conversationalist – Frankie tells you about his work and adventures as a charter pilot, and listens intently as you answer his questions about your work and life in the city.  You almost regret calling everyone in for lunch, but the feeling of being able to offer people something after their morning of hard work has brightened your spirits significantly - it feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You don’t know that the obvious change in your countenance fills Frankie with pride and joy, nor do you see the way he gazes at you with fondness as you cheerfully hand out the wraps or when you jump up after lunch is over and hurry to clear the table.

The next day, you’re returning from a solo walk along the trail that runs behind the cabins on the bay, when you come upon an unfamiliar noise as you approach the boys’ property. 

It sounds like a loud and sharp sudden crack accompanied by a low manly grunt, then followed by a couple of softer thuds.  The echoing combination repeats it self at slightly varying intervals and gets progressively louder until you come upon its source.

From behind a large Spruce tree, you see that it’s Frankie chopping wood.

Frankie repeatedly brings his axe down on the log pieces he’s set up on the chopping block with precision and power.  His sweat soaked shirt is stretched taut across his broad back, the damp fabric doing nothing but accentuate the thick muscles that flex and contract with every burly movement.

Though Frankie’s breathing is heavy, you can tell he isn’t even close to being winded - his strength and rugged athleticism evident by the way he relentlessly labours on, splitting log after log.

Every subsequent swing of the axe captivates you further; a wetness pools in your mouth that you have to force yourself to swallow, lest it spill over and you get caught drooling.

"Wanna give me a hand, City Girl?"

Shit.

Emerging from behind what you now realize looks like a hiding spot, you give Frankie a sheepish smile, “Oh, ummm… you look like you have it pretty well handled.  Not sure if I could even make a dent in one of those logs.”

Frankie takes off his signature cap and uses the back of the same hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead - he chuckles and his eyes twinkle, “Could you help me gather and stack the wood I split onto that rack over there?  And bring me new logs to chop from that other pile there?”

You nod enthusiastically.  Frankie’s making work for you and you’re so thankful and excited to help.

For the next hour, you run around gathering the firewood that Frankie splinters and set him up with fresh logs.  When you apologize that it takes you so long to carry the larger rounds to him, he tells you not to worry – it gives him a chance to catch his breath and take a much-needed rest.  You don’t tell Frankie that he doesn’t look like he needs any rest at all – your own quickened breaths have very little to do with physical exertion and more to do with ogling Frankie’s broad and brawny frame, and the way the entirety of his strapping body is thrown into each axe swing, every muscle engaged, tensed.  It’s similar to the way he looked when he effortlessly rowed the two of you in the tin boat across the lake, but like… a hundred times more burly.

You try to distract yourself from openly drooling at Frankie’s sweat soaked torso by expertly arranging the firewood on the rack so that it fits perfectly together like a Tetris puzzle.  When the last piece has been placed on top, Frankie marvels that the firewood storage has never looked more organized and with one hand still holding on to his axe, he takes your soft hand in his other and leads you down to lunch.

Over the next couple of days, you notice that Frankie goes out of his way to make sure you’re not alone or hiding out in any of the cabins.

He takes you out in Benny’s truck to run in-town errands like picking up additional groceries or getting gas for the boat.  These trips are always filled with fun and easy conversation and end with a treat at the ice cream shop on the main road.  Frankie teases you on how you always flit from freezer to freezer, determined to try a flavour you’ve never had, and you groan at how he sticks to his tried-and-true mint chocolate chip.

You’re getting bolder at offering to do the indoor, more domestic tasks and chores that you know you have the skills to handle like making meals and cleaning up; more often than not, without you asking, Frankie will join you in the kitchen.  Even though you tell him to relax and that he deserves rest after his physical exertions of the day, Frankie stays and hangs out - casually drying dishes, tasting your sauces, leaning his massive figure against the counter and discreetly pointing to various cabinets and drawers when you forget where things go.

Frankie makes you laugh with his quippy jokes and clever little observations, and he makes your cheeks warm with his subtle and sweet flirting.  But mostly, he makes you feel so included, relaxed and accepted – his kindness at having taken you under his wing and giving priority to your comfort and enjoyment at the cabin makes your heart positively sing. 

Since the day he took you out on the rowboat, Frankie has come to visit you in the Screened-In Veranda cabin every night.  The first night, it’s to bring you extra blankets and one of his thick hoodies – all of it you accept gratefully; he also brings a pack of playing cards and the two of you play Big Two until you can barely keep your eyes open. Making sure you're bundled up in his hoodie, Frankie leaves you to sleep under a comically thick stack of blankets and happily swathed in his manly musk.

The next night, he brings you an old worn box of Rummy-O, explaining that he and the boys try to buy old games from garage sales to bring up to the cabin, even ones they’ve never played before.  You’ve never played either, and for the next few nights, you and Frankie spread the tiles over your bedspread and become Rummy-O experts, stopping only when you’re too tired to keep playing - then and only then does Frankie leave you before traipsing back to his own cabin.

Embarrassingly, it takes you until tonight to figure out what he's up to.

“I know what you’re doing,” you grin in the dimly lit cabin as Frankie dons a Korean face mask and lets you give him a cuticle oil treatment.

“I’m getting pampered,” Frankie murmurs from where he lays, careful not to move his face lest the sheet mask slips.

“You’ve been keeping me company every night until I get sleepy so I don’t have to lie here in the dark and be scared,” you look at him warmly, in awe of this tender-hearted man’s goodness.

You see one eye open in the eye hole cut-out of the mask and the corners of the one for the mouth tug up a little, “Has it been working?”

“Yes and thank you.  And I think your hoodie and the blankets you brought really helped too – the nights feels way cozier now.”

“Good.  I’m glad.  Now do you have anything that’s going to help with these bags under my eyes?”

You cackle, sure that the sound of your and Frankie’s joint laughter must carry clear across the lake.

It’s the last night at the cabin and the whole group is out tonight for another bonfire.  You’re nice and snug in Frankie’s hoodie, giggling with Jenny, who you feel like you’ve barely seen this whole week – she fills you in on all eight hundred of the adorable things Benny has done for her this week and you’re over the moon seeing her so completely in love.  The entire group is in great spirits, toasting to another successful season at the cottage, all the shared memories, new and old stories to tell, and the delicious food eaten over this week.  Your dinners for the latter half of the week are praised, and when you bury your face in the oversized sleeves of Frankie's hoodie in embarrassment, you feel his strong arm curl proudly around your shoulders and you positively kvell. 

The drinks flow liberally tonight with no one needing to wake up early and the only chore on anyone’s list being packing.  About halfway through tonight’s bonfire, Frankie slips away from the group; everyone is too caught up in their own conversations to notice it, but you immediately miss having his comforting presence close by.  You’re just about to ask Jenny for the tea on why Tom’s sisters seemed to be giving Will the cold shoulder when you hear Frankie’s dulcet baritone low in your ear, “Hey, City Girl, can I show you something?”

Getting up, you leave the others at the bonfire and follow Frankie back into the Main Cabin.  He ushers you towards the main living room and when you enter, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks with a gasp.  The darkened room is lit bright and warm from the fire that Frankie’s laid in the fireplace, the flames crackling slow and calm – he must have been stoking it for a while.  In front of the glowing fire is a little carpeted area with cushions arranged purposefully to create a makeshift sitting area.  In the middle sits two brandy snifters filled with an amber gold liquid.

“Frankie, what’s all this?” you exclaim, eyes bright as you turn to look at the handsome, affectionate man who brought you here.

Gesturing for you to sit down in front of the gently roaring fire and handing you one of the glasses as you settle in, Franke shyly explains, “Wasn’t able to swing any cashmere sweaters, but I wanted to give you your brandy by the fireplace cottage experience.”

Rendered speechless by how cute and thoughtful Frankie is - all you can do is give him a doe-eyed look of awe as you sip the liquor he managed to procure.  For you.

“Thank you, Frankie.  This is perfect.  But if I’m being honest, I’ve quite warmed up to the cabin experience,” you tease.

“Good,” the tenor of Frankie’s voice is warm with the undercurrent of what’s not yet been spoken out loud.

As you both enjoy your fireside libations, you joke and flirt, keeping the conversation light - somehow tip-toeing around what’s happening between the two of you.  Your bodies, though, pay your shyness no mind, inching closer and closer until you’re practically in Frankie’s lap.  The conversation grows quieter as words are replaced by looks of longing and want until all you seem to be doing is studying the dark and rough lines of Frankie’s face, the plushness of his lips, the adorable heart shaped patch in his facial scruff.

With one final sip of brandy, the soothing burn of the liquor down your throat gives you that final push of liquid courage and you drop your gaze from Frankie’s soft chocolate brown eyes down to his waiting mouth.  Not so innocently, you lick you lips at the sight.

Then Frankie is on you, crashing his lips to yours – the empty snifters rolling away on the carpet as you pour yourself into his mouth, open wide and inviting.  This first kiss is nothing short of sensual and desperate, the feelings that have been simmering over the past week boiling over until you’re both a mess of tongues, moans and clashing teeth.

“Oh Frankie,” your soft whimpers a welcomed song to his ears, Frankie returns your sentiments by licking behind your teeth, exploring and stroking into your receptive mouth with a fiery passion.  His hands maneuver you to straddle him so that he can better feel you, roaming your back until one hand comes to a rest at the nape of your neck, the other under one of the pert globes of your ass, using them as leverage to press you flush against his chest.

As your hands go to run through Frankie’s soft waves, you knock his favourite cap onto the ground and you giggle loudly when it lands near the now forgotten brandy snifters with a little thud.  Frankie feels himself harden at the melodic sound.

You make out like teenagers, tongues dancing and teeth nibbling until you both run out of air and have no choice to break apart, panting.

“Been wanting to do that since I saw you your first day here, City Girl,” admits Frankie, eyes tender and sincere as he rests his forehead against yours.

Leaning in to lightly peck his lips, you’re surprised but can’t help teasing, “What took you so long, Morales?”

Frankie chuckles, though his eyes flash with a bolt of insecurity, “Wasn’t sure you would want to.  Benny said something about how he wanted to try and set you up with Will.”

Your face scrunches up with astonishment - so Jenny wasn’t just being facetious!  But you quickly cup Frankie’s face and run your thumbs reassuringly through his adorable scruff, “I don’t know anything about that.  But what I do know is that I can’t resist a kind hearted, handsome man who goes out of his way to take care of me, never judges me and makes me feel comfortable without pushing me to be someone I’m not.  You, Frankie – I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you to kiss me.”

Taking this as the invitation it is, Frankie slots his mouth over yours once more.  This second kiss is slower, deeper, and full of promise.  You sigh as Frankie’s tongue slides over yours in a slow and intimate waltz and his lips find yours again and again and again.

“Querida,” he murmurs, “when we get back to the city, can I take you out to dinner?”

Grinning at having earned yourself another nickname, you tuck yourself into the nook under Frankie’s chin and press one, two, three soft kisses to his neck while nodding, “I’d love that, Frankie.”

The next morning you wake up well rested, with a strong arm banded over your body and Frankie’s hard chest pressed up against your back.  Slipping slowly back to consciousness, you can’t help but smile as the memories of the previous night come flooding back.  Frankie came back up to your cabin with you and stayed to keep you company as he had the previous nights, but instead of games or spa treatments, he kept you awake with the hard and soft kisses of his expert mouth and innocent touches that by the end of the night, didn’t feel quite so innocent anymore.  Lips swollen after hours of making out, Frankie had tucked in with you under the covers and held you close, lulling you to sleep with evenness of his breathing and the soothing rise and fall of his chest.  Rolling over, you find Frankie already slowly blinking awake, “Good morning, City Girl.  Did you sleep okay?”

You nod into his shoulder, “Slept perfect, Frankie.  Coziest night here with my own personal furnace.”

Frankie chuckles, “I like waking up with you like this, pretty girl.  Like seeing you wearing my clothes, too.”

Shyly, you gaze into Frankie’s eyes, heart beating faster at his look of adoration, “I like it too, Frankie.  Waking up with you, wearing your clothes.”

After some tender and sweet kisses under the covers, the two of you manage to get out of bed so you can pack and get ready for the trip home.

Right before he closes the door to the Screened-In Veranda Cabin, Frankie turns around, “Wanna ride with me on the way back, City Girl?”

“Sure!  What about Santi and Will?”  You can’t help but get excited about the prospect of a long road trip with Frankie.

“They can go with Benny.  Or Tom.  Well at least Santi can ride with Tom.  Don’t think Tom’s sisters will let Will into Tom’s truck,” Frankie looks genuinely amused and you once again spot that cute dimple make an appearance in his right cheek.

“Omigod!  I meant to ask Jenny about that – what happened??”

Frankie throws you a heart-stopping wink, one that nearly sends your knees buckling, “Tell you on the way home, querida.”

---

A few hours later, everyone’s packed bags are stowed in their respective cars, the cabins locked, boats put away for the winter, and sheets and laundry stripped to go back to the city to be cleaned.

“Ready to go, City Girl?” grins Frankie, “Bet you can’t wait to get home.”

Buckling your seatbelt and looking fondly at the sweet man who made sure you felt seen and cared for this week, you say, almost wistfully, “It’s not that bad here.”

Pressing a tender kiss to your lips, Frankie nuzzles your nose affectionately with his before putting the car in reverse.  Steering the wheel one-handedly with his other big paw cupping the back of your headrest, he winks, “Cottage country ain’t got nothing on cabin country, am I right, querida?”

You giggle as he straightens out the car and take the hand that Frankie’s holds out to you over the centre console, “Only the cashmere sweaters, but other than that, nothing.”

Frankie brings your hand up to his lips, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles as he starts down the windy dirt road in the direction of the city, “An easy fix for next time, City Girl.” 

Biting your lip to keep from smiling too much, you nod happily in agreement.  Next time.

[quasi-normalcy]

So, to summarise this case, for those who haven't been paying attention: Indigo is the major bookstore chain in Canada. It's billionaire owner, Heather Reisman (together with her husband, Gerry Schwartz, who's also a dick, but that's not important here) is the founder of a "charity" called the HESEG Foundation, which pays for foreign volunteers in the Israeli Defence Force to settle in Israel after their terms of service is up. Naturally, this attracted major political controversy and calls for boycott after the IDF started its genocide in Gaza last year. Last fall, a group of protesters defaced an Indigo storefront in Toronto with red paint and posters accusing Reisman of funding genocide. This was immediately and near-uniformly decried in the Canadian media as an "antisemitic attack", even though the posters did not even mention Reisman's Jewish heritage. The Toronto Police Department announced that it was investigating it as a "hate crime", and a few days later, 11 protesters, including several university professors, were arrested by more than 70 Toronto police in pre-dawn raids normally reserved for drug busts and organised crime. Since then, all charges were dropped against 4 of them, and the strongest charge, criminal harassment, was dropped against all of them (due, of course, to how utterly, obviously insubstantial it was); meaning that there's a massive, well-publicised trial complete with predawn raids and over 70 police officers, to hold seven people to account for public mischief.

Now it's come out that Reisman spoke to the Toronto police chief twice on the day of the attack, and the defence wants the police chief to testify as to what these conversations were about. They also want the court to order Reisman to produce records as to the exact nature of HESEG's activities. Naturally, her lawyers are now accusing them of trying to turn the trial "into a political soapbox".

Anyways, the long and the short of it is, billionaires can apparently just ring up the chief of police and get predawn raids by over 70 officers conducted in cases of misdemeanour defacement of property. Also, if you're in Canada and you're buying books for anyone this holiday season, for God's sake, get them at an independent bookstore.

[rjzimmerman]

The agency that carries out this "program" is called the Wildlife Services of the U.S. Department of Agriculture. I hate this agency with all the passion I can generate, and have ever since I learned about it and what it does 15 years ago. It exists to murder wildlife, particularly to benefit farmers and ranchers. Long ago, someone put handle on the agency, calling it the "gopher chokers." The name fits. I have done more than a fair amount of yelling to my dead representatives in Congress and senators to dismantle the agency or change its purpose and mission.

My favorite statistic. I don't remember the year, but let's just say 2014. In that year, Wildlife Services killed about 350,000 red-winged blackbirds. Why? They were eating sunflower seeds in sunflower farms. You'd think that a sunflower farmer should be taking that risk rather than causing us taxpayers to make his profit for him, right?

Other stats. We're starting to believe that beavers need to be returned to the wild to help us with floods and drought resistance. Wildlife Services killed 24,603 beavers in 2023. Other stats for death: 525 cardinals; 68,562 coyotes; 430 black bears; 17,109 mourning doves; 6,952 cattle egrets; 1,292 red foxes; 24,744 Canadian geese (even though they are protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act); 1,209 jackrabbits (four species of them); 1,981 possum; 905 robins. I could go on, but I'm going to puke. Here's the link to the chart.

Sorry about the length of this post, but it takes a while to describe pure evil.

Excerpt from this story from NPR:

The United States Department of Agriculture's [USDA’s] Wildlife Services program is a holdover from the 1930s, when Congress gave the federal government broad authority to kill wildlife at the request of private landowners. In that era, government-sponsored extermination programs for native wild animals, like wolves and grizzly bears, were common.

After the Endangered Species Act was passed in 1973, federal agencies were required to change course and start helping some of those wild animal populations recover. But today, Wildlife Services employees still kill hundreds of thousands of noninvasive animals a year, data from the agency shows. Even species considered threatened under the Endangered Species Act, like grizzly bears, are not exempt. So long as livestock or human life are threatened, federal rules allow Wildlife Services to kill those animals, too.

Conservationist groups have long protested the program, saying the government is killing animals at the request of private livestock owners without first presenting enough evidence to show that the management methods aren’t harming the environment, as federal law requires.

“One of the biggest issues that comes up with Wildlife Services, and where we've beaten them in court multiple times in multiple states, is the controversy of the science,” said Lizzy Pennock, an attorney for the nonprofit WildEarth Guardians. “We need to get out of the framework of the 1800s and 1900s where it's like, kill any carnivores that might be inconvenient.”

Wildlife Services officials say that with the exception of invasive species, employees only kill wild animals that attack livestock or cause damage. But data obtained by NPR indicates the program often kills native wildlife that didn’t kill or injure livestock.

NPR obtained and digitized thousands of Wildlife Services work orders from Montana, created from 2019 through 2022, and built a database that shows that the program’s employees frequently kill native wild animals without evidence of livestock loss. The documents reveal that during those three years, employees killed approximately 11,000 wild animals on Montana properties where no wildlife was recorded as responsible for killing or injuring any livestock. In those cases, only a "threat" from those wild animals was logged in the records.

The agency frequently used helicopters and planes to shoot large numbers of wild animals at a time, the documents show, a method activists consider cruel and scientists say can lead to local eradications.

Although some livestock organizations financially support part of Wildlife Services' work, individual livestock owners do not pay a fee when federal employees come to their properties. Employees are allowed to kill wild animals on those private areas as well as on public land, like state forests and parks.

“That’s a bloodbath,” said Collette Adkins, a lawyer who leads the Carnivore Conservation program at the Center for Biological Diversity. “That just seems like yahoos with rifles killing everything they see that moves. It’s horrible to imagine the amount of suffering involved there.”

“Of all wildlife encountered in FY 2023, Wildlife Services lethally removed 5.14%, or approximately 1.45 million, from areas where damage was occurring. Invasive species accounted for 74.2% (1,079,279) of the wildlife lethally removed,” a representative wrote.

An NPR analysis of those reports shows that Wildlife Services killed more than 370,000 noninvasive animals across the country in the 2023 fiscal year. And over the past nine years, Wildlife Services killed 30 threatened grizzly bears and at least 1,500 gray wolves in states where they were otherwise supposed to receive protection under the Endangered Species Act, like in Minnesota and Wisconsin.

But the reports don’t reveal the names of the livestock owners that use Wildlife Services. That’s to protect the privacy of people in the agriculture industry, the agency has said. Wildlife Services also doesn’t disclose in those reports how many wild animals were killed by federal employees on public land.

[rayneisnotwet]

Well that isn’t what we expected is it? Trump winning the white house. In the salient words of Miss Juicy, ”What the hell we gon’ do now?”. Everyone has a different idea. “We need to engage in our communities!” , “I’m moving to Canada!”, “I’m doing c*ke in the bathroom!” some cry out. Others are disengaging from the zeitgeist, and with it, apparently, social media. But when people announce these reactionary ideas of theirs, it feels more like a child yelling that they hate their parents because they got their Xbox taken away than a serious strategy to avoid oppression. I get it though, everyone just wants a change now. The hottest new accessory is going to be a poorly thought out style choice. Short haircuts with clumsy dye jobs and a trashcan full of “I’m with her!” memorabilia is how everyone dealt with this last time. But what is really the answer to this feeling?

Well, you’re all in luck. Because as a Trans drag queen in the midwest with an enhanced ID, I have the insight into all these coping methods. I write this while smoking a skinny cig. sitting on a picnic table in my childhood backyard, on property that’s interest rates doubled so fiercely it convinced both my parents to vote Trump and pushed me farther left than I thought was possible before I just detransitioned into Mao Zedong. I doubt that social media breaks announced via Instagram story or a vote for a failed businessman turned reality star or a jar of Manic Panic Amazon Primed to your door is going to make any of us feel any better, or bring the dollar menu at the drive thru back.

The Canadian immigration website crashed in 2016 after Trump won the first time, and to be fair I can see why. Everytime I visit, a feeling of relaxation washes over me. Not just because it's where my boyfriend lives, but because it's a genuinely very easy place. People stroll instead of scurrying through the streets. Even in Toronto, the largest city. The food is fantastic as well. The cosmopolitan-and just like that, I started ordering them-attitudes lead to a huge mix of cultures that seem to coexist in a much more mixed fashion than the notoriously segregated US. Sure, there’s the french-speaking Quebecois, but every country has annoying people. The friendliness is no joke either (as long as it’s not a service worker), people ask you how you are as a question, rather than a greeting.

Canada isn’t a liberal wonderland though, despite what Justin Trudeau might lead you to believe. During my Toronto visit, I checked out Dundas Square, the canuck equivalent of Times Square (there was no one in knockoff Elmo costumes). As soon as we stepped out of the subway station it was awash with the sounds of protest. A First Nations demonstration played out, with people chanting “LET HIM GO!” while drum beats punctuated the cries. A woman sat on a speaker holding a microphone, telling the heart-wrenching story of her son who had been shot during a wellness check by police in the midst of a mental health crisis. I wanted to support and join in the chanting, but my boyfriend advised not to, warning me the TPS were just as brutal as any American police department, especially to Trans women. Moments later a man, middle aged, bald, and white, started hitting on me aggressively. My boyfriend immediately shielded me from him, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer and made a scene. Another man chimed in, “That's not a ‘She’ bro!”

We got out of there fast.

So while Canada may have a more charismatic leader on the world stage, and policies that protect its vulnerable communities slightly better than the US, it’s not a utopia for Queers. Least of all Trans women or Two Spirit people. The truth is there is no such thing as safe spaces. As long as tribalism is baked into our monkey brains, we will find something to point at and feel superior about over someone else. I’ve actually felt more disrespected in some majority white gay male bars than I have in dives in my hometown of bumfuck Jackson playing the UofM game on their tv. A word of advice to The Dolls, don’t underestimate the cruelty of men. 🚬 or not. That isn’t to say I hadn't found community in a lot of Queer parties.

I had started my post-election-pity-party at Necto in Ann Arbor for the finale of the UofM-student-powered drag competition reality show Runway Rumble. Michigan’s best and brightest new talent (and others) battling it out for the belt. Those of us that had been eliminated were doing a group number with the finalists and accepting awards. The energy was electric, people were excited to see each other and drinks were flowing. I can't speak for coke in the bathroom because I was in an outfit that didn't allow for bathroom visits, and frankly a bank account that didn't allow for coke.

With all the excitement and nerves in the air about who would clinch the win, it felt like our community’s political turmoil was dead and gone. Although, some people were drinking so much I thought they might go the same way.

Spoiler alert, Belladonna won the competition, and for me that was such a relief. To see a Trans woman win a competition like this and receive the recognition she so rightly deserved as a fixture in the Detroit scene was vindicating as a Doll Supremacist. Shoutout to you diva, you did that shit. Big shoutout also to one of the judges, Pineapple Honeydew, for finger-waving my look that night. I hugged Bella and joined in on the rest of the cast and crew who were inundating her with congratulations, and that's when I realized something. In this bar, on this stage, in THIS moment, Trump wasn’t president. He’ll never be president of Necto, or president of drag. This place, these people, were presidentless. This country may have elected him with the popular vote, but that didn’t matter here. His political success couldn’t take away Belladonna’s Drag excellence. Or Portia’s for creating the show. Or mine for leaving my mark on the show as Drama Diva and holder of the Golden Boot. No. Our community, its survival and ability to thrive, was entirely dependent on US, not THEM.

So yes, things will be much more difficult now. This will be a tough time for Trans kids, for immigrants, especially mexicans. A tough time for the elderly on social security, a battle for young mothers and young women trying NOT to become mothers. For blue collar workers in unions, for their families. Entire classes of people, communities, towns, families, they’ll be ripped apart. We’ve already seen how populism injected into right-wing politics can create the perfect siren’s song to attract members of our family, turning them into strangers. But at the end of the day, the days gotta end. Will we all take this lying down? Or with a smile on our faces, a tequila sunrise in one hand and our loved ones hand in the other? Our community, no, we protest and sing and dance and drink and dress up and be gay! Openly! Loudly! Until they realize we really aren’t going anywhere.

[wanderingmind867]

My Interpretation of the Justice League Pt. 2:

Part 2: Justice League Detroit: Now that J'onn is the new leader of the team, he moves to Detroit and sets up a private detective service there (possibly with his brother ma'alefa'ak as junior detective or something). From Detroit, J'onn goes looking for new members for his team. He finds them without too much hassle, and the Justice League Detroit is born!

The Justice League Detroit consists of six members: Martian Manhunter, Commander Steel, Gypsy (whose name probably really needs some reworking), Vibe, Vixen and J'onn's brother Ma'alefa'ak. The team is quite dysfunctional at first, since most of the team's members are young and impulsive. But with Martian Manhunter's careful guidance, the team slowly begins to come into their own.

The team is sadly still dealing with reputation issues from that civil war thing, and no amount of good press seems to be able to fix the problems inherent in the team around this time. Even though they get some big name allies or members (like Hawkman or Captain Marvel/Shazam or Green Lantern John Stewart), the team can't beat their bad reputation.

And sadly, everything comes crashing down around 2-3 years into this teams history. When J'onn's brother Ma'alefa'ak feels like he's been discriminated against by the people of earth, his already unstable mind (we can cover that in a seperate note), snaps and leads him to go on a rampage all throughout the globe. In order to stop him, the Justice League Detroit has to team up with all the members of the original Justice League (except Batman) and hunt him down.

And while this brave team of around 20 manages to subdue Ma'alefa'ak and make him see reason, the team still comes out of this looking bad. Ma'alefa'ak was technically a member of the Justice League, so some people are quick to blame the league for this conflict even occuring in the first place. Besides, Ma'alefa'ak and the league caused so much property damage across the world that they're pretty much broke by the time this adventure is over.

Part 3: Justice League…Canada? Originally conceived when the Justice League Detroit gets a mission in Canada. The mission goes well, and the Justice League gets some contacts in Canada. A year or two after this, the Justice League has the whole Ma'alefa'ak incident and their public reputation sinks even lower. Knowing that the United States has turned on them, the Justice League use their connections in Canada to keep the team running. Only one requirement: the team will have some oversight by the canadian government. Nothing too severe. But there will be some oversight and guidelines.

This new team is dysfunctional but shockingly more cohesive than any team before or after. Despite it all, this Canadian team slowly begins to recover the team's reputation after years of trauma. Who knew a team with members like Red Tornado, Blue Beetle, Booster Gold and others would be the team that leads the league back to greatness? Or well, as close to greatness as you can get after 4-5 years of awful publicity.

[fatehbaz]

Hannah and Chris: [...] For Ruth Wilson Gilmore, for example, “Life in rehearsal” is one way to describe abolition. To her, this means “building life-affirming institutions” whilst refusing to reproduce rules or remain with regret. Instead of signifying absence, it is both a present and about presence. Ariella Aïsha Azoulay makes the case for “rehearsals with others”, to question sovereignty and its operative mechanisms. For her, this entails imagining camaraderie and alliances and reversing the temporality of opposing sovereign violence “to imagine its demise not as a promise to come but as that which others have already experienced and made possible”. Moten and Harney use the term “rehearsal” to explain their idea of “study” as an always unfinished and improvisatory collaboration: “And since we’re rehearsing, you might as well pick up an instrument too.” [...]

Robyn: Every day I wake up and rehearse the person I would like to be. [...] To use the words of the late, great, C.L.R. James, “every cook can govern.” Organizing, whether formal or informal, whether geared toward a short term goal or a massive, transformative shift: this is what happens when people consciously decide to come together and “shape change,” to think with Octavia Butler. And to move through the world with the intention of making it a better place for living creatures to inhabit. [...] And most importantly, it’s an invitation to join in. And it is a reminder that liberation is not a destination but an ongoing process, a praxis. Every day, groups of parents, librarians, nurses, temp workers, ordinary people, tired of the horrors of the present, come together to decide what kind of world they want to inhabit. [...]

---

Robyn: [...] [T]here were 21 hunger strikes in Canadian jails, prisons and detention centers between March 2020 and March 2021 [...]. "[W]ithin this architecture of oppression, we are a vibrant community [...] who eat together, [...] play together, and protect each other from a system that has exploited us.” [...]

[Robyn:] I’m thinking here of Claude McKay’s words from “If We Must Die”: “Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!” Now of course fighting back looks like many things [...]. But it’s also much more: for so many people, whether abandoned by the state in a [public health crisis] [...] or abandoned by society in a carceral site, fighting back, by virtue of necessity as well as of ethics, is building, always building. This is the freedom work, and the love work, and the care work, of rehearsal. [...]

Robyn: [...] [I]t’s crucial, I think, that we remember that regimes of private property - and, crucially, the carceral state that entrenches them - are continually being contested, have never been written in stone, and are far from inevitable or permanent fixtures of planetary and earthly life. […] Elected officials chose, and choose every day, to spend millions of public dollars on criminalizing homelessness rather than address its root causes: the unaffordability of a city caused by the unchecked powers of developers and the mass abandonment of Black, Indigenous, disabled peoples, and people living with mental health issues. [...] But new visions for living are forwarded every day [...]. Mutual aid [...] support projects [...] in Toronto and Hamilton, [...] [in] Edmonton [and] [...] in Halifax are supporting [homeless people] [...] against city evictions, ensuring food, water, and medical services where their city has failed to do so. [...] Here I’d like to bring in the words of [G.I.] [...], describing [...] the longer-term [homeless] support organizing that came out of it: That is one of the most revolutionary things: to build community with people who our government and our society tells us not to: Black, Brown and houseless people standing side by side, to re-imagine what the world could look like.

---

All text above by: Robyn Maynard, Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, Hannah Voegele, and Christopher Griffin. “Every Day We Must Get Up and Relearn the World: An Interview with Robyn Maynard and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson.” Interfere: Journal for Critical Thought and Radical Politics. 19 November 2021. At: doi dot org slash 10.17613/9w3e-n182 [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

[ask-a-native]

Do Native Americans pay taxes?

Let me add a qualifier that this is not my field of expertise, either by experience or education, but I'll answer in a general sense. Keep in mind I'm speaking on Canada, not the US. But to my knowledge the US has the same complexity to the matter.

Short Answer: Yes

Detailed Answer: It's complicated

From a brief article on the matter:

Most income, sales and property tax exemptions only apply to status Indians (637,660) who live or work on a reserve. Less than half of all registered status Indians live on reserve so the number who are actually eligible for tax exemptions amounts to about 314,000 people. [1] To put it in perspective, somewhat less than half of all registered status Indians live on reserve so less than 1% of the total population of Canada are exempt from paying certain taxes.

All other Indigenous people – Inuit, Métis and non-status Indians - pay taxes on the same footing as non-Indigenous people.

Back to my own words.

"Taxes" is pretty broad so let's get specific:

Sales Tax

Some natives are entitled to some sales tax exemptions that vary case to case. In Canada, you need to be enrolled with a specific First Nation to be eligible for certain exemptions.

Because I'm a Métis citizen that means I don't have "Status" and am not enrolled with a (colonial constructed) First Nation, so I don't have much first-hand knowledge on the subject. But I know enough from others that it's a pain in the ass "privilege" to attempt to invoke in the cases you're actually entitled to it.

Keep in mind this (complicated) exemption is not actually a "privilege." First Nations are considered to fall under the domain of the federal government, not provincial. And many of the government services a non-First Nations Canadian (or American) citizen would expect from municipal and provincial governments are instead provided by the band or let's say, by the "reserve," that don't receive provincial or municipal funding. Those services are funded by revenue generated by the band's own enterprises, or from a fund generated by resources "owned" by First Nations, sometimes according to treaties, but generously managed by the federal government.

In my experience, the only significant, reliable sales tax exemption is if you're a member of a First Nation buying goods from a business located on reserve. Unfortunately, the business is still expected to pay the total of those owed taxes and wait upon a refund that often comes after a delay. Which is a headache for businesses owned and operated by band members who mostly service band members.

Income Tax

Yes. The only exemption is if you're a "Status Indian" (legal term) working on reserve. Any income earned off-reserve is taxed.

Property Tax

Functions the same as the others. There are exemptions for Status Indians living on reserve. I reiterate, if you own property on reserve. But otherwise you pay what everyone else pays.

Well that was an interesting start.

[mermaidsirennikita]

I just finished Between the Devil and Desire and would love any recommendations for similar class/upbringing difference historical romances.

Def have some of those! I focused on "upper class lady/lower class man" to run consistently with Between the Devil and Desire.

Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night by Stacy Reid--Similar dynamic. Widowed icy duchess hires this lower class powerful fixer man to help find her son's governess when she goes missing. Eventually, he'd rather something other than money as payment. It's super big on the class difference, and very hot.

For My Lady's Heart by Laura Kinsale--Medieval classic, heroine is a widow and a literal princess known for her icy nature, hero is a knight who pledged himself to her service thirteen years earlier but is only truly meeting her now, when he escorts her on a dangerous journey. Funny, angsty, very romantic.

How to Tame a Wild Rogue by Julie Anne Long--Heroine is a spinster refined lady who runs into a roguish privateer in the middle of a huge storm; they end up sharing a suite at an inn while pretending to be a married couple. A bottle episode kind of romcom with a bittersweet edge (heroine feels very undesirable and like she's wasted her life).

Pippa and the Prince of Secrets by Grace Callaway--My favorite Callaway (thus far). A widowed countess reconnects with the man who gave her her first kiss when they were teens; he leads this underworld spy network type thing, and he's super scarred, so he wears a mask. It's REALLY hot (especially if you like some exhibitionism/voyeurism) and angsty and tender. The scene where he finally lets her see his face is so emotional.

Her Protector's Pleasure by Grace Callaway--Widowed lady (baroness, I think?) is looking for her daughter, who was taken from her years ago. She was pregnant by another man when she married her husband, and he became abusively resentful. She hires a lower class lawman to help her find the kid, and obviously he's INSTANTLY drawn to her.

Glory and the Master of Shadows by Grace Callaway--Heroine is the daughter of a duke, and the hero is a Chinese immigrant who becomes her mentor as she seeks to become a better... vigilante? (This series is like, Charlie's Angels but Victorian--it's GREAT.) It's so hot; there's some age gap vibes, master/pupil vibes. Grace is Chinese-Canadian, and she wrote the book with like, a wuxia inspiration in mind. Like I said, Wei (the hero) is Chinese; however, the heroine's father is actually half-Chinese as well, so there's a level of her learning about this background she's felt disconnected to.

The Prince of Broadway by Joanna Shupe--Heroine is the upper class daughter of an extremely influential man in New York, hero is a casino owner who hates her father and plans to use her for vengeance when she asks him to become her mentor. Actually, all three Uptown Girl books have this (the first one is the eldest daughter and their father's lawyer/fixer who came from nothing, third is the youngest daughter and a gangster).

Dearest Rogue by Elizabeth Hoyt--Heroine is a duke's sister; she's blind, so her brother hires this ex-soldier/captain of the guard type as her bodyguard. They have to go on a road trip to escape this guy who wants to kidnap her, and fall in love in the process.

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt--Heroine is a widowed lady, hero is a younger man/virgin/orphanage master. He's a masked vigilante, and she ends up picking him up after he's been injured; at first, there's this Zorro vibe where she doesn't know who he is, which is super cool.

Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas--Sara isn't super upper class but she is like, gentry; Derek was born in the slums, and their class difference is a huge obstacle (for him) when she begins shadowing him as she researches her book.

The Leopard Prince by Elizabeth Hoyt--Heroine is a fine lady who's inherited a property, and the hero is the steward of the property. They begin a passionate, secret affair.

Again the Magic by Lisa Kleypas--Heroine is an earl's daughter, while the hero is a servant on the property who grows up alongside her. They fall in love as teens, but her father makes her break his heart and send him away. Years later, he returns BENT ON REVENGE!!! So good.

Butterfly Swords by Jeannie Lin--Heroine is the emperor's daughter who escapes her wedding entourage after it's attacked. A mercenary begins escorting her across China, and they fall in love. Includes a fab scene wherein she's wearing a blindfold while doing some sword stuff with him and he toooouches her.

[stephobrien]

Is your pro-Palestine activism hurting innocent people? Here's how to avoid that. (Plain text version)

I kept getting "needs pt" tags on the original post, so here's the plain text version:

Over the last few days, I’ve had conversations with several Jewish people who told me how hurt and scared they are right now.

To my great regret, some of that pain came from a poorly-thought-out post of mine, which – while not ill-intentioned – WAS hurtful.

And a lot of it came from cruelty they’d experienced at the hands of people who claim to be advocating for Palestine, but are using the very real plight of innocent Palestinians to harm equally innocent Jewish people.

Y’all, we need to do better. (Yes, “we” definitely includes me; this is in no small part a “learn from my fail” post, and also a “making amends” post. Some of these are mistakes I’ve made in the past.)

So if you’re an advocate for Palestine who wants to make sure that your defense of one group of vulnerable people doesn’t harm another, here are some important things to do or keep in mind:

Ask yourself if you’re applying a standard to one group that you aren’t applying to another.

Would you want all white Americans or Canadians to be expelled from America or Canada?

Do you want all Jewish people to be expelled from Israel, as opposed to finding a way to live alongside Palestinian Arabs in peace?

If the answer to those two questions is different, ask yourself WHY.

Do you want to be held responsible for the actions of your nation’s army or government? No? Then don’t hold innocent Jewish people, or Israelis in general (whether Jewish or otherwise), responsible for the actions of the Israeli army and government.

On that subject, be wary of condemning all Israeli people for the actions of the IDF. Large-scale tactical decisions are made by the top brass. Service is compulsory, and very few can reasonably get out of service.

Blaming all Israelis for the military’s actions is like blaming all Vietnam vets for the horrors in Vietnam. They’re not calling the shots. They aren’t Nazis running concentration camps. They are carrying out military operations that SHOULD be criticized.

And do not compare them or ANY JEWISH PERSON to Nazis in general. It is Jewish cultural trauma and not outsiders’ to use against them.

Don’t infuse legitimate criticism with antisemitism. By all means, spread the word about the crimes committed by the Israeli army and government, and the complicity of their allies. Criticize the people responsible for committing and enabling atrocities.

But if you imply that they’re committing those crimes because they’re Jewish, or because Jewish people have special privileges, then you’re straying into antisemitic territory.

Criticize the crime, not the group. If you believe that collective punishment is wrong, don’t do it yourself.

And do your best to use words that apply directly to the situation, rather than the historical terms for situations with similar features. For example, use “segregation,” “oppression,” or “subjugation,” not “Holocaust” or “Jim Crow.” These other historical events are not the cultural property of Jews OR Palestinians, but also have their own nuances and struggles and historical contexts.

Also, blaming other world events on Jewish people or making Jewish people associated with them (for instance, some people falsely blame Jewish people for the African slave trade) is a key feature of how antisemitism functions.

Please, by all means, be specific and detailed in your critiques. But keep them focused on the current political actors – not other peoples’ or nations’ political or cultural histories and traumas.

Be prepared to accept criticism. You probably already know that society is infused with a wide array of bigotries, and that people growing up in that environment tend to absorb those beliefs without even realizing it. Antisemitism is no exception.

What that means is, there’s a very real chance that you will screw up, and get called out on it, as I so recently did.

If that happens, please be willing to learn and adapt. If you can educate yourself about the suffering and needs of Palestinians, you can do the same for Jewish people.

Understand that the people you hurt aren’t obligated to baby you. Give them room to be angry. After I made a post that inadvertently hurt people, some were nice about it, and others weren’t. Some outright insulted my morals and intelligence.

And I had to accept that I’d earned that from them.

I’d hurt them, and they weren’t obligated to be more careful with my feelings than I had been with theirs.

They weren’t obligated to forgive me, trust me, or stop being mad at me right away.

I’ll admit, there were moments when I got defensive. I shouldn’t have. And I encourage you to try not to, if you screw up and hurt people.

I know that’s hard, but it’s important. Getting defensive only tells people you care more about doubling down on your mistake than you do about healing the hurt it caused.

Instead, acknowledge that they have a right to be angry, apologize for the way you hurt them, and try to make amends, while understanding that they don’t owe you trust or forgiveness.

Be aware that some antisemites are using legitimate complaints to “Trojan horse” antisemitism into leftist spaces. This is a really easy stumbling block to trip over, because most people probably don’t look at every post a creator makes before sharing the one they’re looking at right now.

I recently shared a video that called out some of the Likud and IDF’s atrocities and hypocrisy, and that also noted that many Jewish people are wonderful members of their communities.

I was later informed that, while that video in particular seemed reasonable, the creator behind it is frequently antisemitic.

I deleted the post, and blocked the creator. I encourage you to do the same if it’s brought to your attention that you’ve been ‘Trojan horse’d.

EDIT: Important note about antisemitism in leftist spaces:

While it's true that some blatant antisemites are using seemingly reasonable posts to get their foot in the door of leftist spaces, it's also true that a lot of antisemitism already exists inside those spaces.

This antisemitism is often dressed up in progressive-sounding language, but nonetheless singles Jewish people and places out in ways that aren't applied equally to other groups, or that label Jewish people in ways that portray them as acceptable targets.

If you want to see some specific examples, so you can have a better idea of what to keep an eye out for, I suggest reading this excellent reblog of the original post.

Fact-check your doubts about antisemitism. Depending on which parts of the internet you look at, you’ve probably seen people accused of antisemitism because they complained about the Likud and/or IDF’s actions. So you might be primed to be wary, or feel unsure of how to tell what counts as real antisemitism.

But that doesn’t mean antisemitism isn’t a very real, widespread, and harmful problem. And it doesn’t mean many or even most Jewish people are lying to you or being overly sensitive.

So if someone says something is antisemitic, and you aren’t sure, I encourage you to:

A. Look up the action or thing in question, including its history. Is there an antisemitic history or connotation you aren’t aware of? For best results, include “antisemitic” in your search query, in quotes.

B. Understand that some things, while not inherently antisemitic, have been used by antisemites often enough that Jewish people are understandably wary of them. Schrodinger’s antisemitism, if you will.

C. Ask Jewish people WHO HAVE OFFERED TO HELP EDUCATE YOU. Emphasis on WHO HAVE OFFERED. Random Jewish people aren’t obligated to give you their time and emotional energy, or to educate you – especially on subjects that are scary or painful for them.

@edenfenixblogs has kindly offered her inbox to those who are genuinely trying to learn and do better, and I’ve found her to be very kind, patient, reasonable, and fair-minded.

Understand that this is URGENTLY NEEDED. In one of my conversations with a Jewish person who’d called me out, they said this was the most productive conversation they’d had with a person with a Palestinian flag in their profile.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

I didn’t do anything special. All I did was listen, apologize for my mistakes, and learn.

Yes, it feels good to be acknowledged. But I feel like I’ve been praised for peeing IN the toilet, instead of beside it.

Apologizing, learning, and making amends after you hurt people shouldn’t be “the most reasonable thing I’ve heard from a person with a Palestinian flag pfp.”

It should be BASIC DECENCY.

And the fact that it’s apparently so uncommon should tell you how much unnecessary stress and fear Jewish people have been living with because of people who consider themselves defenders of human rights.

By all means, be angry at the Likud, the IDF, and the politicians, reporters, and specific media outlets who choose to enable and cover up for them. But direct that anger toward the people who deserve it and are in a position to do something about it, not random people who simply happen to be Jewish, or who don’t want millions of people to be turned into refugees when less violent methods of achieving freedom and rights for Palestinians are available.

Stop peeing beside the toilet, people.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"THE BOLSHEVIK HAD many faces. There was the cartoon image of the Red—the wild-eyed radical with a bomb in one hand and a political tract inthe other—but there were many others as well. In the popular imagination the Reds were usually foreigners; that is, they weren’t “like us.” They were irresponsible, cowardly, and lazy. They might be misguided dreamers, as the humorist Stephen Leacock argued, or they might be determined terrorists. Some were disrespectful of women, but others were women themselves, feminists who wanted to achieve a dangerous equality between the sexes. Some people even thought that Red ideas were so extreme they were a sign of mental illness. This chapter takes a look at the multiple images of the Bolshevik that evoked so much fear and suspicion among Canadians during the Red Scare.

"It is becoming the habit in this country to designate every one a Bolshevist with whom we cannot agree,” said wounded war hero and Liberal Member of Parliament Charles “Chubby” Power scolding some of his seatmates in the House of Commons on June 2, 1919. Power was right. The definition of Bolshevism that emerged from all the Red Scare propaganda was infinitely elastic; it could be applied to almost anyone whose political views strayed from the straight and narrow. Some people believed that Bolshevism was essentially an economic doctrine proposing the abolition of the wage system and the transfer of the means of production from employers to workers. Others thought of it as a social doctrine promoting free love and the abolition of the family. To others it was nothing more than organized terrorism on a grand scale. For instance, the Liberal federal minister of public works, F.B. Carvell, defined a Bolshevik as

a wild-eyed anarchist looting a bank, shooting down all the Bourgeois or property owners in the country and carrying off their wives and children.

Despite the imprecision, there were certain recurring elements in the image of the Bolshevik that inhabited the collective nightmares of Canadians in the years 1918 to 1919. For one thing, Bolsheviks were usually aliens, immigrants from one of the poorer nations of Europe: Germans, Italians, Finns, and Slavs of all sorts. “The country has been stripped of much of the good old Anglo-Saxon stock,” explained Thomas Fraser in his Maclean’s article of January 1919, “and its place has largely been taken by workmen of foreign extraction, many of them of enemy nationality. That is the root of the whole matter.” Even when it was admitted, as it had to be, that most of the radical leaders responsible for widespread labour unrest were from Great Britain, and therefore very much of “Anglo-Saxon stock,” it was argued that this leadership only succeeded in spreading its dangerous ideas by exploiting the large immigrant population. It was not solid Canadian working men and women who fell into step behind the radicals, but ignorant “bohunks” and other undesirables from the teeming slums of Europe.

Much of the resentment expressed against Canada’s Reds stemmed from the strong animosity against those who were seen as shirkers of their military duty. Supporters of the war despised and ridiculed any able-bodied man who had not gone to fight, and for the most part the labour radicals fit into this category. From their own point of view, radical pacifists had refused to fight the boss’s war. But most members of the public did not see it that way. The shirkers were cowards who had remained in the safety of home while others had paid the ultimate price to defend western civilization. As Jonathan Vance points out in his book, Death So Noble, the call to service was a test of character, and those who did not answer, or who answered no, had none. Communities took enormous pride in their young men who had answered the call in the affirmative, and took a correspondingly dim view of young men who did not. Part of the image of the Bolshevik, therefore, was that he was a spineless snake in the grass, too cowardly to fight for his country, a man who had done nothing to protect Canada at its moment of peril. Why now, in the post-war world, should they be allowed to have a say in its future development? Much of the vehemence with which the Reds were treated had to do with this sense that they had betrayed Canada’s men and women in uniform. To accept that the Reds might have something to contribute to postwar reconstruction was somehow to endorse this betrayal.

Often, Bolsheviks and Germans were confused or conflated in the public mind. Because they had double-crossed their allies by withdrawing from the war, Russian Bolsheviks were seen as no different than the “Hun.” The Allies had defeated Germany on the battlefield, but now it was suspected that German agents were working clandestinely in foreign countries to foment revolution. In some people’s minds, the war against the Reds was an extension of the war against Germany. John Newton, vice-president of the Winnipeg branch of the Great War Veterans Association, explained how it worked. The conspirators’ plan, he wrote in a newspaper article, was to stir up trouble among labour groups, ignite a series of strikes to disrupt the economy, raise the cost of living, and set social class against social class, all of which would eventually result in civil war and the creation of a Soviet-style government in Canada. The Reds, he said, were “only the cat’s-paw of the still worse gang behind the scenes who are carrying out the orders of their overlord, the Hun.”

Bolshevism was considered to be an alien philosophy, profoundly un-Canadian, as anyone would know who truly understood the country. W. F. Cockshutt, another Member of Parliament, declared:

It is time that the laws of Canada should be enforced against those who come over from the old lands, have found sanctuary here and do not appreciate it any more than to preach doctrines so subversive of all law, order and decency as the Bolsheviki have done in Russia, and as they will do here if permitted. In a free country like Canada no such doctrines as those are justified.

What were these alien doctrines which the Reds allegedly would impose on Canada if their revolutionary plans were successful? Some of them were laid out in an editorial in the Toronto Globe in April 1919, titled “Bolshevism in Canada.” First of all, said the Globe, all private property would be seized and given to the state. (“The home, the very foundation of civilization, is swept away …”) Next, all civil liberties, all courts, all laws would be abolished. “Force takes the place of justice.” And third, manual workers would take over the government of the country; everyone else would be excluded from positions of power. “The time comes for the taking of defensive measures of a drastic sort against those who would reproduce in Canada the conditions now existing in Russia,” warned the Globe.

What most alarmed mainstream Canadian opinion-makers was the doctrine of class warfare, and the violence it implied. “They announce a doctrine which says that you shall shoot down every man who wears a white collar, or a white shirt,” exclaimed Cockshutt in the House of Commons. By setting one class against another, the Bolsheviks seemed to advocate a complete breakdown of civil authority. The result would be chaos and anarchy, and to prove the point one only had to look at Russia where, according to the stories regularly appearing in the Canadian press, murderers and thieves ran amok.

Early in 1919 the Manitoba Free Press reported in a front page article that conditions were so bad in Russian cities that peddlers were selling human flesh on the streets to eat. Most middle-class Canadians agreed that there was no need to preach class warfare in Canada. Canada was a democracy, they said, not some brutal dictatorship. Even if revolution might have been necessary in Tsarist Russia, in Canada freedom already existed, guaranteed by the very institutions—the family, private property, elected government— that the Reds sought to destroy. Bolshevism was not simply wrong to propose a reorganization of Canadian society along socialist lines, it was treasonous. It went against everything the country stood for, and as a result had to be suppressed with all the force at the state’s disposal.

Sexual licentiousness, indecency, and a lack of respect for women played a large role in the Bolshevik identity as many Canadians imagined it. Garbled reports from Russia described the “socialization of women” that went on there. Respectable opinion warned that the Reds had the same thing in mind for Canada. The “defilement” of women was a constant theme, though it was usually expressed in the allusive manner of this report by a police spy in Brandon, Manitoba:

Another deplorable thing has occurred here on several occasions, when several highly respectable married women have been grossly insulted in their homes by draymen and deliverymen. I could not find out what was said, but I am led to believe that it was of a very immoral nature and about what one might expect to come from men of ignorant Bolshevik ideas.

If the Bolshevik was believed to be gross and uncouth, he was also believed to be devious and ruthless, without any sense of fair play. Russia had proven this, after all, by withdrawing from the war so precipitately early in 1918. Abandoning its allies, it had come close to costing them the war. It was hard for many Canadians to forgive this act of betrayal, and it seemed to indicate how thoroughly all Bolsheviks lacked loyalty and honour. Without these virtues, Bolshevism could be nothing more than the rule of terror. The Reds might talk about the legitimate grievances of working people, but this was a front for their real intentions, plunder and robbery. “Bolshevikism [sic] is a remarkable manifestation of malice and ignorance and murderousness combined,” wrote the editor of the Ottawa Journal. In theory, the Montreal Star explained to its readers, Bolshevism appeared to be a Utopian-political theory. In practice, it was nothing but “brigandage,” the forcible transfer of wealth from those who had earned it to a small number of idlers, thieves, and murderers. The Winnipeg activist Sam Blumenberg was not exaggerating when he told the audience at the Walker Theatre meeting in December 1918:

Nine-tenths of the people accept the newspaper portrait of a Bolshevist as a man who never had a shave nor a haircut in his life, with a knife in his mouth, a torch in one hand and a bomb in the other, and Bolshevism is considered as something similar to ‘Flu’ or ‘black itch’.

Laziness was another common attribute of the “Imaginary Bolshevik.” Reds allegedly wanted to steal from the industrious rich and give to the indolent poor. “Broadly speaking,” H.F. Gadsby told the readers of the Toronto weekly, Saturday Night,

the Bolshevists in all countries are those who do not fit in with the age-old formula—that man lives by the sweat of his brow. They want to reap where they have not sown. They are the inept, the idle, the vicious—the semi-loafers who are half in and half out of a job, or who prefer no job at all. They have not the get-up to climb the tree and pick the fruit, so they want to shake the tree and bruise everything.

Middle-class Canadians imagined Bolsheviks to be furtive and conspiratorial, meeting in dark basements, sharing secret passwords and handshakes, spreading their poisonous messages in codes and subterfuge. The radical leaders who spoke openly at public meetings were just the tip of the 'Bolshie' iceberg; the majority of the movement carried on its revolutionary work below the surface. This shadowy world of Bolshevik intrigue was evoked in a memo from a police agent on the subject of “secret writing,” which reported that when “foreign agitators” communicated with each other they engaged in devious tradecraft. For example, first, the Bolshevik wrote an inoffensive letter on one side of a sheet of paper and then, on the other side, wrote a secret message “with a pointed stick dipped in milk.” The result was invisible until the recipient brushed some fresh ash across the page, making the milk writing reappear clearly. The wily Bolshevik was assumed to have many tricks every bit as ingenious as this one to avoid detection by the authorities.

This was the image of the Bolshevik then: a ruthless, secretive terrorist dedicated to the forcible dispossession of the employing classes and the socialization of wealth and property. “Professing to be democrats, the Bolsheviki attack democracies,” wrote the Ottawa Journal; “professing to be champions of the poor, the Bolsheviki murder the poor; professing to champion the progress of humanity, the Bolsheviki trample on education, the chief hope of humanity.” Socialists and labour leaders in Canada did not seem to fit this profile, but it did not matter. They were believed to be either the unwitting dupes of hardcore revolutionaries who created and manipulated social unrest from the background, or dedicated revolutionaries themselves who cleverly disguised their real intentions behind a screen of feigned moderation. Either way, mainstream opinion considered them to be an extreme threat to the Canadian way of life, a threat that had to be stopped by almost any means.

- Daniel Francis, Seeing Reds: the Red Scare of 1918-1919, Canada’s First War on Terror. Arsenal Pulp Press, 2011. p. 111-115.

[beardedmrbean]

French farming unions are taking aim at the European Union’s free-trade agreements, which they say open the door to unfair competition from products arriving from overseas. At a time when the EU is urging farmers to adopt more sustainable – and sometimes more costly – agricultural practices, unions say these trade deals are making it hard for them to stay solvent.

French farmers say that one of their biggest fears is that Chilean apples, Brazilian grains and Canadian beef will flood the European market, thereby undermining their livelihoods. France’s farmers continued to demonstrate on the country’s motorways on Wednesday, protesting against rising costs, over-regulation and free-trade agreements –partnerships between the EU and exporting nations that the farming unions say leads to unfair competition. 

The EU has signed several free-trade agreements in recent years, all with the objective of facilitating the movement of goods and services. But farmers say the deals bring with them insurmountable challenges.

"These agreements aim to reduce customs duties, with maximum quotas for certain agricultural products and non-tariff barriers," said Elvire Fabry, senior researcher at the Jacques Delors Institute, a French think-tank dedicated to European affairs. "They also have an increasingly broad regulatory scope to promote European standards for investment, protection of intellectual property, geographical indications and sustainable development standards."

South American trade deal in the crosshairs

Some non-EU countries – such as Norway, Liechtenstein and Iceland – maintain comprehensive free-trade agreements with the EU because they are part of the European Economic Area. This allows them to benefit from the free movement of goods, services, capital and people.

Other nations farther afield have signed more variable agreements with the EU, including Canada, Japan, Mexico, Vietnam and Ukraine. The EU also recently signed an accord with Kenya and a deal with New Zealand that will come into force this year; negotiations are also under way with India and Australia.    

However, a draft agreement between the EU and the South American trade bloc Mercosur is creating the most concern. Under discussion since the 1990s, this trade partnership between Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay and Paraguay would create the world's largest free-trade area, a market encompassing 780 million people. 

French farmers are particularly concerned about the deal’s possible effect on agriculture. The most recent version of the text introduces quotas for Mercosur countries to export 99,000 tonnes of beef, 100,000 tonnes of poultry and 180,000 tonnes of sugar per year, with little or no customs duties imposed. In exchange, duties would also be lowered on exports from the EU on many “protected designation of origin” (PDO) products. 

At a time when the EU is urging farmers to adopt more sustainable agricultural practices, French unions say these agreements would open the door to massive imports – at more competitive prices – of products that do not meet the same environmental standards as those originating in Europe. French farmers are calling out what they say is unfair competition from farmers in South America who can grow GMO crops and use growth-promoting antibiotics on livestock, which is banned in the EU. 

Trade unions from various sectors went into action after the European Commission informed them on January 24 that negotiations with Mercosur could be concluded "before the end of this mandate", i.e., before the European Parliament elections in June.      

The FNSEA, France’s biggest farming union, immediately called for a "clear rejection of free-trade agreements" while the pro-environmental farming group Confédération Paysanne (Farmers' Confederation) called for an "immediate end to negotiations" on this type of agreement.   

A mixed record

"In reality, the impact of these free-trade agreements varies from sector to sector," said Fabry. "Negotiations prior to agreements aim to calibrate the opening up of trade to limit the negative impact on the most exposed sectors. And, at the same time, these sectors can benefit from other agreements. In the end, it's a question of finding an overall balance."

This disparity is glaringly obvious in the agricultural sector. "The wine and spirits industry as well as the dairy industry stand to gain more than livestock farmers, for example," said Fabry. These sectors are the main beneficiaries of free-trade agreements, according to a 2023 report by the French National Assembly.

"The existence of trade agreements that allow customs duty differentials to be eliminated is an 'over-determining factor' in the competitiveness of French wines," wrote FranceAgriMer, a national establishment for agriculture and maritime products under the authority of the French ministry of agriculture in a 2021 report. The majority of free-trade agreements lower or abolish customs duties to allow the export of many PDO products, a category to which many wines belong.

However, the impact on meat is less clear-cut. While FranceAgriMer says the balance between imports and exports appears to be in the EU's favour for pork, poultry exports seem to be declining as a result of the agreements. Hence the fears over the planned treaty with New Zealand, which provides for 36,000 tonnes of mutton to be imported into the EU, equivalent to 45% of French production in 2022. France,however, still has a large surplus of grains except for soya. 

‘A bargaining chip’

Beyond the impact on agriculture, "this debate on free-trade agreements must take into account other issues", said Fabry. "We are in a situation where the EU is seeking to secure its supplies and in particular its supplies of strategic minerals. Brazil's lithium, cobalt, graphite and other resource reserves should not be overlooked."

The agreement with Chile should enable strategic minerals to be exported in exchange for agricultural products. Germany strongly supports the agreement with Mercosur, as it sees it as an outlet for its industrial sectors, according to Fabry.

"In virtually all free-trade agreements, agriculture is always used as a bargaining chip in exchange for selling cars or Airbus planes," Véronique Marchesseau, general-secretary of the Confédération Paysanne, told AFP.

Michèle Boudoin, president of the French National Sheep Federation, told AFP that the agreement with New Zealand will "destabilise the lamb market in France".  

"We know that Germany needs to export its cars, that France needs to sell its wheat, and we're told that we need an ally in the Pacific tocounter China and Russia. But if that is the case, then we need help to be able to produce top-of-the-line lamb, for example," she said.

Finally, "there is a question of influence", said Fabry. "These agreements also remain a way for the EU to promote its environmental standards to lead its partners along the path of ecological transition, even if this has to be negotiated," said Fabry. 

Marc Fesneau, the French minister of agriculture, made the same argument. "In most cases, the agreements have been beneficial, including to French agriculture," Fesneau wrote on X last week, adding: "They will be even more so if we ensure that our standards are respected."

Mercosur negotiations suspended? 

As the farmers’ promised “siege” of Paris and other major locations across France continues, the French government has been trying to reassure agricultural workers about Mercosur, even though President Emmanuel Macron and Brazilian President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva relaunched negotiations in December. "France is clearly opposed to the signing of the Mercosur treaty," Prime Minister Gabriel Attal acknowledged last week.

The Élysée Palace even said on Monday evening that EU negotiations with the South American bloc had been suspended because of France's opposition to the treaty. The conditions are "not ripe" for concluding the negotiations, said Eric Mamer, spokesman for the European Commission. "However, discussions are ongoing." 

Before being adopted, the agreement would have to be passed unanimously by the European Parliament, then ratified individually by the 27 EU member states.

[todaysdocument]

Brigadier General Moses Hazen wrote to Congress on April 8, 1783, asking for benefits and compensation for Canadians who fought for the U.S. during the Revolutionary War. 

Record Group 360: Records of the Continental and Confederation Congresses and the Constitutional Convention

Series: Papers of the Continental Congress

File Unit: Petitions Addressed to Congress

Transcription: 

457

To the Honourable the Congress of the United States of America:

The Memorial of Brigadier-General Moses Haren, in behalf of himself, Officers, and others, Canadian Refugees, at present Objects of the Honourable Congress, as in the Subsequent Memorial will more fully appear,

Sheweth,

That there are now serving in the Regiment under his Command, Officers and Men chiefly Refugees from Canada, and not of the proportional Part of any particular State, as will appear by the Returns now lodged in the War Office of these States:

The exclusive of the aforesaid Officers and Men now in Service, there are a considerable Number of Canadian Officers and others, Men, Women and Children, Refugees from Canada, that [waive?] Provisions from the Public, and some other small Supplies, as the only Means for them to obtain a present moderate [Sustenance?]:

That the People of Canada living in a conquered County, their Liberties had not been infringed, their Properties endangered by Innovations from Government - nor had there been any Violation of [Charters?] - Subjects of real Complaint from the good People of these States - before the present great and important Revolution:

That the several Branches of [Commerce?] formed, and intimate Connections [subsisting?] between the United States and Canada, before the Commencement of the late War, together with the Weight and Interest of the Protestant Whigs in Canada, made great Progress, at an early Period, in that County in favour of the present Revolution, insomuch, that on the first approach of a small Body of undisciplined Men under the Command of the late brave General Montgomery, the Governor of Canada, and all his Emissaries, under the then System of British Policy, were not able, either by Force, Entreaty or [Flattery?], to bring any considerable Number of Canadians under arms, to oppose the Small Force, but by these States into that Country - But on the contrary, many of the Canadians fled to the American Standard, and assisted in the Siege of St. John's, and Blockade of Quebec, whilst others supported them with Provisions, Clothing, Carriages, &c. on the Faith and Credit of these States:

That the then Honourable the Continental Congress did in the Month of January 1776 send into Canada a pleasing Proclamation, inviting the People of that Country to join in arms to oppose the

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453 and under the Sovereignty of the United States, but to draw out of the present Limits of Canada such other Sufferers by this COntest as [shall?] remain in that Country, together with such other & their Friends and Connections are willing to become Settlers in a new Country, and Subjects of these States, and thereby to enjoy in Time those Liberties and advantages in common with the Citizens of this new and rising Empire:

Your Memorialist therefore humbly prays, That the Honourable the Congress - the Sovereign Power in these States, will please to grant to the said Canadian Officers, Men, and Others, now serving in the Regiment, who are not considered as a Part of the Quotas of any or either of these States, together with all the Refugees from Canada, and such of our Friends and Sufferers in that Province, with other associates as may be willing to become Settlers in a new Country, and Subjects of these States, a certain Tract of Land, beginning at the Mouth of the River Huron, which empties itself into Lake St. Clair, which said Lake is on the Water [Communication?] between the Lake Huron and the Lake Erie - thence down the said Water [Communication?] along the Boundary between Great Britain Lake Erie to the Mouth of the River [Miamis?] - thence across the said Mouth of the River [Miamis?] along the Border of the said Lake Erie six Miles from the said River - hence up the said River - preserving the Said Constance of six Miles from the Bank of the said River as its several Courses run, 'til a right Line down shall comprehend the Distance of six Miles above [Miamis?] Fort - thence on a direct Line to the Mouth of the River St. Joseph - thence up the said River St. Joseph to its Source - thence in a direct Line to a Station on the Banks of the River, twelve Miles from the Mouth of said River - thence down the said River to the Place of Beginning - or in such Proportions, Places, and Situations within the said Limits as shall be judged right, having regard to their several Ranks and Pretensions - thereby at the same time ratifying and confirming in their quiet Possessions all such Persons already established within the above Limits as have not, during the Course of this War, behaved inimical to these States, by bearing arms, or otherwise - and who are willing to take the Oaths of Allegiance to these States and become their Subjects: and further, that you would be graciously pleased to afford such assistance to the Persons in the Memorial mentions, as may enable them the more speedily to form the said

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tyrannical measures of Great-Britain; {illegible] promising them Protection, and pledging the Faith of the United States for the farms; to which Proclamation we beg leave refer:

452 That a large proportion of the said Canadian Officers and Men now serving in the Regiment under your Memorialist's Command, were not only employed in arms under the late General Montgomery at the Siege of St. John's, and Blockade of Quebec, but voluntarily enlisted into the said Regiment on the small bounty of six dollars and two thirds of a dollar then offered by Congress to serve during the War:  They retreated out of Canada with the American Troops; some with their wives and children; leaving their connections and properties- not however without hopes of returning in arms victorious to their own country and that the same idea has been encouraged and kept alive, not only by the Articles of Confederation, and the Proclamation sent into Canada by Count D'Estainy, but by many other circumstances down to the present [illegible]:

That the said Canadian Officers and Men have honestly and faithfully served several hard campaigns, constantly employed in the most arduous and dangerous services- not by any means on an equal footing with the other parts of the army- without complaint or murmur:

That the supplies of clothing, Vc, as well as a late settlement with these Canadian Officers and Men have not been equally advantageous with them, as it has been to the other parts of the army of these States:

That the said Canadians in general were reputable inhabitants in Canada, who had property of their own, and lived at their Estate in that Country; and that they have been constantly buoyed up with the Hopes of repossessing their Estates, and returning to their Families and Connections, until the late news of the Treaty of Peace:

That however honorable or advantageous the Peace may be to the United States of America- yet these very men who have largely [illegible] in every Danger, Foil, and Fatigue- who have been faithful and constant in their Duty- will not equally partake of the Blessings of Peace which the Citizens of the United States will perfectly enjoy- they being secluded from their native country. They therefore, still attached to the cause in which they have fought and bled, rather than return neglected and depressed; willing to partake of those blessings of Liberty, which they have with unremitted Pain and Fatigue assisted to obtain, wish not only to settle and establish themselves on some part of the engranted Lands, which formerly belonged to the Province of Canada, but now within the

[page 4]

454

Settlement not in the least doubting but from the various connections of your Memorialist in Canada, and the general decided sentiments of that people in favor of this Empire, they will soon form a populous and flourishing establishment:

Your Memorialist further prays that the Honourable the Congress will please to direct that the interest due to the Canadian Officers and Men, and others, now serving in the Regiment, and not of the Quota of any of these States may be paid:

And your Memorialist shall ever pray.

Moses Hazen

Memorial Brig Gen Hazen

April 8 1783

Referred to W. Osgood, W. Wilson, W. Madison, W. Carroll, W. Williamson.