Last week, thousands of Canadians stood on the side of the road, many in subzero temperatures, gazing into the cold abyss of tundra — waiting, hoping, that their boys, the so-called deplorables would emerge before dusk.  They watched the foggy horizon intently, conspicuously, with waving flags and prepared foods, hoping to catch a glimpse of men in their overalls and wellingtons, sitting behind their wheels with their bad knees and aching backs, with soot-covered faces, with the windows rolled down, pumping their fists with one hand while steering to their glorious destination with the other.  They wondered, with bated breath, if those western cowboys and rugged individualists would stay true to their word.  Would they turn back?  Did they have the fortitude to go on?  Would they deliver Canada from a Neo-Marxist despot?

Rumble video screen grab.

Just when hope seemed forlorn, thousands of blue-collar men working the oil fields of northwest Canada emerged from the darkness.  On that gloomy horizon, their lights were a beacon of hope — a reminder, if not a historical promise, that good men — real men — would still rise to the occasion, that they would march on unabated, undaunted, always willing to do whatever it takes to secure liberty.  Their horns symbolized hope.  Not that "all-talk-no-action" hope you get from equivocating political quacks, but that calm, unbending will that exists only in men of action.  No words and no promises were necessary.  You knew that everything would be okay.  Hell, many of them even looked the part.  Big beards and big muscles, just like many of the best movie heroes.  The reckoning had finally come.  The arrogant socialist academics and their collectivist utopian peddlers had finally met their match.  There was a palpable change in the air.  You could breathe again.

The political class and their propaganda outlets called them "bigots and terrorists" and warned that they might "rape your daughters."  They were painted as shameful, disgraceful deplorables, crazed lunatics, and a "fringe minority" with "unacceptable views."  In lieu of meeting with these men, the boy in Parliament grabbed his wig and scurried to his bunker.  Instead of listening and compromising, the leader of a democratic nation chose to run from his own people.

At night, while he tosses and turns, Trudeau dreams of big beards, manly men, and disgruntled faces.  He wonders why these unrefined behemoths won't just return to that backward place of North-West, Canada.  Don't these pesky losers have oil to drill or a puck to swing at?

The Ottawa elites complain that the incessant horns are a nuisance.  The left-wing Washington Post calls for the prime minister to "confront them" — whatever that means.  Does the journalist at the Washington Post envision imprisoning the truckers, or blowing up the big rigs under the cover of night?  Just a few bombs here and there, and we all go back to business as usual?

Does anyone else find it strange that the elites of Ottawa are more worried about honking horns than freedom of speech or bodily autonomy?  Does anyone find it bizarre that Canadian politicians are more worried about virtue-signaling their respect for Chinese New Year than spending time with the hundreds of thousands of citizens parked right outside their building?

These new-age petty tyrants seek to regulate our speech.  They omit important data and cancel those who refuse to comply with their dogma.  They fund the majority of academic studies and vehemently attack independent studies contrary to their opinion.  They tell us when and how we can worship our god.  They shut down our businesses with the stroke of a pen.  They close the borders and prohibit our travel.  They call science "anti-science" and "anti-science" science.  They tell us to choose between a job and a jab.  And like all tyrants, they call for higher taxes to pay for their lavish spending.

In a thousand cities, in a hundred different countries, thousands of truckers should join them.