Canada’s official misinformation media, the CBC is reporting on “post traumatic stress” from apparently, the sounds of truck horns honking. In the article, one person named Kevin is quoted as saying:
“It was one thing for me, but I’ve got animals. I’ve got three cats, two dogs. So yeah, it was torture.”
Ottawa resident Sean Flynn is quoted as saying in regard to hearing honking sounds now,
“I felt I was constantly doing these sort of double takes … it almost feels a bit re-traumatizing.”
I wonder how these men would deal with war if they ever had to fight in one. Heck, how do they deal with even very light negativity? I’d also highly recommend to these people that they forget about any plans they ever had of visiting the centre of Athens, Greece. The honking horns will likely leave them shaking in their boots and perhaps pooping their pants. Bring a diaper, if you do come, Sean and Kevin.
Misuse of Words
In recent years, it seems many have made it a hobby to misuse the English language. This includes terms like “trauma” and “torture.” It’s gone as far in that some have described the “Trucker Convoy” to Ottawa as a siege on the city, or an “occupation” of the city.
Forget the fact that the Truckers were staying in a small part of the city, where the country’s Parliament is located, it was not a siege or an occupation.
Let’s turn to Oxford Dictionary for the meanings of these words and what we would normally expect the idea being communicated when we read or hear them:
1.a job or profession.
2.the action, state, or period of occupying or being occupied by military force.
“the Roman occupation of Britain”
Please note 2. The word “occupation” in this sense has a military meaning and does not apply to people protesting the government at the location where the government meets.
Therefore it is a gross misuse of the word “occupation” to apply it to the Truckers’ protest.
Oddly enough though, the term “occupation” was used by people who identify as “progressives” as a movement, including “Occupy D.C.” In fact, this is called the “Occupy Movement.” This movement had significant support among progressives including left-wing politicians, and even the City of Los Angeles adopted a resolution stating its support for the Occupy Movement.
So, it becomes humorous to me see a bunch of progressive lefties who once supported the “Occupy Movement” now refer to the Truckers’ protest as an occupation as if that is a bad thing. But in fact, as we can see from our dictionary definition, it is not even correct to use the word in this context. When people misuse words (and I believe they knowingly do it for emotive purposes), they actually lessen what it is really like to live under an actual occupation.
Let’s turn to the next word I’ve seen used, even in the Canadian Senate:
1. The surrounding and blockading of a city, town, or fortress by an army attempting to capture it.
2. A prolonged period, as of illness: a siege of asthma.
Again, we can see it has a military meaning. At no point were the Truckers attempting to “capture” the City of Ottawa, and they did not have an army.
Although, it has been lied that the Truckers were an “armed occupation” – but if this were true, then why were there never any firearm related charges in Ottawa? They were not armed whatsoever. Now, you might try to bring up Coutts, Alberta where firearms were found close to the blockade (but not at the blockade as many MSM have incorrectly reported) – but that is a different story, and is not Ottawa. It is with regard to the truckers in Ottawa that has been falsely claimed an “armed occupation.”
“But If Felt Like It…”
Some might insanely claim that a protest that involved bouncy castles, saunas, people dancing and singing and horns honking “felt like” an occupation or siege. But that tells me that these people have never experienced an actual siege or occupation.
Let’s look at another word that has been applied by some, insanely, to the truckers and the protest in Ottawa:
the unlawful use of violence and intimidation, especially against civilians, in the pursuit of political aims.
Okay, some might suggest they felt intimidated – but this word does not mean intimidation. It includes acts of violence. There were no acts of violence at the protest site over the 23 days. No bombings, no shootings, no knee-cappings, no tar and featherings, no pistol whipping, no beatings, and in fact, even the police remarked on just how peaceful it was.
When you use this term, “terrorism” in such ways, it is insulting to those who have experienced actual terrorism.
Have we weakened peoples’ minds so much that they are now so easily “traumatized?” This is not a good thing. I do realize that trauma can affect people in different ways – but honking horns??
I’ve done a lot of things in my life, faced a lot of challenges, and I fear that most people today couldn’t handle or recover from even one of the things I’ve had to face. It is true that I probably have PTSD to some degree, but this is after multiple incidents, over a lifetime of 58 years. So for my part, I really have no sympathy for many of these people that claim “trauma” – I don’t really believe them. But, if it is true, it’s a pretty sad state of our society where people are so easily traumatized now.
Many people do not know all of the challenges or incidents that I’ve seen but here you go:
I have not, thank God, have had to face or feel effects of terrorism as deeply as my family and friends in Northern Ireland, who faced it every day for many years. But it is something I have seen first hand. One of the reasons my family came to Canada from Northern Ireland was due to some threats made against my father – it was not the only reason, but my father did cite it as one of the reasons that helped to make the decision.
Our first few years in Canada were mostly happy but there was also a worrying threat that remained – there were IRA supporters in the country. My father slept with his Vaughan Township issued police revolver under his pillow back then.
In 1970, I watched my mother in tears, as we both went to visit a Roman Catholic friend and hearing the friend plead and cry herself, “Please Pat, I’m so sorry but I cannot have you in my house. You need to leave. They are watching us, and if I let you in, my daughter and I will be tarred and feathered.”
I was 6 years old when I heard those words. And I knew very well what “tarred and feathered” meant.
Those who conducted their evil terrorism followed us to Canada. The IRA knew what my father was doing, and what occupations he had. One time, a known IRA sympathizer who drove a taxi cab in Richmond Hill happened to pick up my wee brother when he was about six or seven years old. My brother was visiting friends and a cab was arranged to take him home. The IRA man quizzed my brother about any firearms our father might have had. At the time, my brother did not really understand what was going on – and was puzzled as to why a taxi driver would ask him such things.
It was around the same time, perhaps within a year or so, that a very good friend of my father (and our family in general) came to visit us from Northern Ireland. Stanley Hilditch was a pretty high profile person at the time, being the Governor of The Maize prison where many IRA (and Protestant terrorist groups) were held.
I remember very well, going to the airport with my parents to pick Stanley up at the airport. When we got back to our house in Richmond Hill, my sister and I were the first ones through the door…. and we arrived to a total mess where our entire house had been ransacked. Nothing had been taken. Cash that had been in drawers, was left behind on the floor, as was my mom’s jewelry. But everything in the house had been turned upside down. This was not the work of thieves. It is possible I suppose it was the police, but the incident was reported to them – they would have let us know and have provided a search warrant if it was a police action. But there was no reason for any of that at our house.
My father did have a legally owned Lee Enfield .303 along with a .22 rifle, and they were not touched or removed from the house.
My father believed our house was searched by IRA operatives in Canada. Purposefully nothing was taken as that would have possibly caused a greater police investigation to occur. The purpose of the attack on our house was to intimidate our family and our Northern Irish guest.
Of course, on return visits to Northern Ireland before the Good Friday agreement, I experienced the effects of terrorism – while it is true that I have never been bombed, knee-capped, etc – having to go through police and army checkpoints, and even when shopping in Belfast, the high security check points and being searched before entering any shop. Sad days for the place of my birth.
So it is quite insulting to me that people here in Canada including politicians, and even Senators within the Canadian Senate would so lightly bandy about the term “terrorism” in regard to the Ottawa Truckers Protest. It is not only insulting, its a sign of insane thinking to use that term and really mean it when discussing what happened in Ottawa.
More On Trauma
If people today who claim trauma are in fact traumatized, then I really feel sorry for them. And it is a reflection on the sad state of affairs in Canada where so many are outright pansies and snowflakes and small things can “traumatize” them so much.
Personally, I think about this, and it’s insane to me. I go through my life, and although I will admit to probably being “damaged” in some ways, I don’t go out talking to newspapers and crying about my traumas. I don’t want to get into each and every detail, but a short list of things I’ve done/faced over my lifetime:
- I was hospitalized at Sick Kids in Toronto for the better part of four years. I was on strict bedrest and any time I needed to go for an ECG or some other test, I was placed in a wheelchair. When my condition improved, I literally had to learn how to walk all over again. One of the conditions I had was pericarditis, and for me it was life-threatening at times. For that period of my life, I was often taken to the hospital theatre and discussed as if I were some kind of zoo animal, by a lecturing doctor to student doctors. I was a model for the student doctors as well, as they could listen to my heart with a stethoscope and learn how pericarditis sounded through that instrument. Every morning, new student doctors would do rounds at the hospital and I would be one of their stops, so they could all listen to my heart.
- I eventually recovered from most of the symptoms (but not all, and it’s something I rarely share, but there is still not a day that I don’t feel some pain – I just don’t talk about it). I was a skinny, (and I thought ugly) kid that had no coordination at age 14. I got a job on a farm.
You want to know what would traumatize so many today? I could list dozens of things I’ve had to do. But yes, I’ve had to stick my hand into the vagina of a cow with a rope, tie the rope around the calf’s legs that was breach, and help pull the calf out to save both the mother cow and calf.
I expect from what I see, that this experience would “traumatize” an awful lot of Canadians today. But it had to be done. I was 15 years old.
- I’ve been shot at. More than once. The last time was in December 2000 at an address on Flemington Road in the Lawrence Heights housing project. I was dealing some disorderlies (alone) when one of them who was not from the area, pulled a gun at shot at me. He missed. I still hear the “bang-ping” – the bullet struck the metal overhang I was standing under. Part of my head was freaking out while the other part was saying, “Stay calm…. stay calm… show no fear… ” The second side won as I stared them all down. When I got back to my office, I allowed myself a little bit of time to realize what had just happened.
- Grey Matter Leaking On To The Sidewalk Once I had a call to an address at Parma Court, of gunshots. I happened to be right around the corner and took the call. Most of the time when we got gunshot calls, the suspects were long gone. This time however, I saw a young male laying on the sidewalk in front of a row of townhouses. I stopped the car and ran over, and as I listened to him gurgling and grasping for his breath, his grey matter was leaking out of his head, where he had been shot. This was something my First Aid training hadn’t really prepared me for, in real life. All I could do was call in a confirmation that a man had been shot, was still breathing and we needed an ambulance now.
In the meantime, I had no idea where the shooter was. Was the shooter still around? Is the shooter watching and realizing the victim is not yet dead? Will the shooter try again, while I’m standing there? So I had to try my best to comfort this man, as he gurgled and breathed, while scanning everything around me, to protect him and myself from a second attempt of the shooter. It didn’t happen, but I had to be aware of it.
The man was shivering, and I took my own jacket off and put it over him to try to help him as much as I could before the ambulance arrived.
What was weird to me at the time… after I did my report up, the next thing is I am dispatched to a minor neighbour dispute. It was bizarre and surreal to me. There I had just been dealing with a man who had been shot and his brains were leaking out of his head, and now I’m off to talk to someone playing loud music, as if everything was just routine.
Then, the next day or day after, I’m driving five hours to see my sons in Ottawa… alone… and all my head can think of is what I just saw and how on earth I can try to do everything so it’s not one of my sons laying on a sidewalk like that.
But I fight the thoughts, so I am happy, excited, and joyful to see my sons over the next two days that I have them.
To this day, the sight of this man often pops into my head. As well as the experience of being shout at.
- The Knife Nearly Stabbed Me – I had a call to backup up my mobile partner at Lawrence/Orton regarding a group of drug dealing disorderlies at the side of the building. Vince Garcia was a guy that I knew I could depend on and he would not do stupid things to make things worse, and he knew he could depend on me for the same. When we arrived, it was a large group, and as we tried to persuade them to leave, a couple of the gangsters got violent. One pulled out a knife and thrust it toward my belly. At that time, we weren’t wearing bullet proof vests… and as I saw the knife blade point almost at my belly, Vince saved me with his ASP as he thundered it down on the knife wielder’s hand. It did not matter that I was an instant away from having been stabbed… I still needed to remain calm. The guy with the knife ran off – but we still had some people to deal with that were seemed to want violence.
In my experience, when some need help, they yell into the radio, and no one can understand. In that moment, I spoke very clearly over the radio to our dispatch about the situation and that we needed backup now. You know what happened?
It later turned out that because I had spoken so clearly and did not sound panicked, the dispatcher at the time did not really think it was an urgent situation…. gosh. It meant that Vince and I were dealing with these drug gang disorderlies – the two of us vs about 20 of them, for over twenty minutes, before we had any backup.
And you fools want to talk about trauma of truck horns?
- I was in a business relationship with a woman, in which sometimes, we’d have casual sex. She got pregnant. She wanted to have an abortion, but then decided to carry through with the pregnancy and put the child up for adoption.
On August 6th, 2002, I was awokened from my futon that I was sleeping on to sounds of moaning and groaning, and I realized she was in labour. Guess what? I actually delivered the baby, on my own. Due to circumstances that involved embarrassment on the part of the mother (she had told no one else she was pregnant), she didn’t want to go to the hospital until late in the evening, after dark. I looked after them both. I then made sure the baby was not adopted out even though that was her plan. I still have the notes from the CAS if anyone wants to see them.
Believe it or not, I could go on and on. What I have written above is only a minuscule number of events that probably have contributed to some PTSD in my part. But I can still function. Perhaps not at 100% if I had not suffered the trauma, but maybe the trauma has also done me some good as well. Actually, when I recovered enough from my illnesses as a kid to be released from hospital, that is actually how I did look at it. In high school, I really had a great deal of empathy for the kids that were different … the ones that could not speak English very well, and wore religious head gear and were mocked by others. I cared about them as I knew what it was like to be “different.”
But I also know the importance of freedom and liberties. For everyone. It is bizarre to me that we now have people on the left that will claim those that want to defend freedom are “racist, anti-science,” etc.
We will all have traumas in our lives, some more than others, but it is an utter disgrace to equate trauma in the same way – horns honking? Phantom noises? Sheesh, that’s another thing, I’ve been living with “phantom noise” for about 10 years now – tinnitus… possibly caused according to my doctor, by the huge amounts of ASA (Aspirin) I was prescribed as a child for my illnesses – 36 5 grain tablets a day.
Some people have experienced MUCH MORE trauma than I have. But it is idiotic from my perspective, to give any attention to people who want to call a peaceful protest an “occupation,” or a “siege,” or “terrorism” or complain of trauma from horns honking.
And if you want to criticize me at my age, then you first walk in my shoes. But I’m convinced that freedom is the greatest and most valuable idea, above any riches, and I will defend it fully as I can. And defend against the moronic attacks on it. And the smears that are used even by Senators in our “Second Sober Thought” chamber, against those that defend freedom.