OUTSTANDING IN HIS FIELD, RADICALPRESS.COM PUBLISHER ARTHUR TOPHAM REFLECTS IN “COTTONWOOD GOTHIC” STYLE UPON THE GROWING STENCH FROM INCREASING GOVERNMENT AND MEDIA CONTROL THAT THREATEN CANADA’S BASIC RIGHTS & FREEDOMS.
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Living in the small village of Cottonwood in the foothills of the Cariboo Mountain range east of Quesnel, B.C. our elevation (2950 feet) gives us just a little more of winter than our neighbours down along the Fraser River to the west. As such we daren’t plant our above-ground crops until around the end of first week of June which is right around the time of this writing.

Generally, planting and preparing the ground is nothing out of the ordinary but this year it’s an added burden to an already overloaded schedule. Thanks to B’nai Brith Canada and their “hate crimes” charge that I’ve been accused of, my time is overwhelmingly consumed in countless hours indoors in my study preparing articles and legal documents and communicating with other freedom of speech lovers around the world. While my eastern neighbour Daniel Poulin, Counsel for the Canadian Human Rights Commission, is out on the weekend playing golf or tending to his flower garden knowing that his pay cheque is in the mail, I’m fretting about trying to dig up enough coin for a gallon of gasoline to power the rototiller and hopefully get the ground ready for all those yummie vegies that my lovely wife has waiting in the greenhouse.

But, still, we must be thankful for the little things that country living brings with it. One of my neighbours up the road has a couple of horses which he and his wife care for and ride. Thanks to their efforts (the horses, that is) a valuable amount of manure is produced over the winter months of feeding in the barn and thanks to the efforts of myself and my dear wife, we were able to haul home a copious amount of the valuable, natural fertilizer for our garden.

It’s a good example of holistic living. Robert Hunter, I know, would have appreciated the symbiotic symbolism of the whole process.

And so, while forking the horseshit into buckets to then be transferred to the flat-deck of my ol’ Dodge, I found myself singing a little ditty that for some months now just seems to pop into my head whenever I’m preoccupied with the whole issue of the “hate crime” that I’ve been charged with along with all of the characters or actors in this little melodrama. It’s a take off on an old Beatles tune, from the White album I believe, called Rocky Raccoon. It goes like this:

“Her name was Magill and she called herself Lil, but everyone [at the Registry] knew her as Nancy.”

Readers who have been following this “Show Trial” put on for the taxpaying public by the Canadian Human Rights Commission and its partner-in-crime the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal, will recognize that “Magill” is really Nancy Lafontant the Registry Officer for the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal located in Ottawa, Ontario. It is to her that all matters concerning this complaint case are sent by the parties involved. She’s sorta like the flak-catcher who passes on whatever to the head honchos working behind (presumably) locked, windowless doors with big, ugly rent-a-cop, security goons barring the entrance to terrorists and “hate mongers” such as myself who might for whatever reason suddenly take it upon ourselves to go and pay these faceless commissars a visit.

I haven’t a clue what Nancy is really like other than that her use of the English language appears challenging at times but, seeing as how her name is constantly before me on my computer screen, I fantasize about the sort of person that would hold such a position in such a crazy, quasi-judicial organization as the CHR Tribunal.

Then of course one line leads to another and the next one goes:

“Now she and her man who called himself Dan(iel) were in the next room at the hoe-down.”

Suddenly it all began to fall into place for me. Obviously “Dan” can be no other than Daniel Poulin, Counsel for the CHRC who likely resides in the same building that Nancy works in. Now I’m beginning to really sense the degree of conspiracy that’s unfolding here! Both of them are French-Canadians and both of them have trouble (it seems) understanding the English language; in particular Dan, who appears to be extra-challenged by short phrases such as, “and/or citizens of Israel” which, when he sees it written in legal, complaint forms, filled out meticulously by such experienced “hate crimes” fighters as Harry Abrams of the League for Human Rights of B’nai Brith Canada (recall Abrams’ famous case against the octogenarian WW2 war hero Doug Collins), he translates into the phrase “and/or other non-whites.” Now, while I and many readers who are following this grotesque gong show, find this rather odd and downright dastardly and dirty-pool, it appears that the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal doesn’t seem to see anything unusual in such disastrous changes to the English language.

In her June 2, 2009 ruling on a motion that I filed with the Tribunal requesting that Dan correct his error Tribunal member Karen Jensen denied my motion that the Commission amend its false statement and replace it with the original true one contained in the original true complaint document originally sent to the Commission by Harry Abrams, the originally true Complainant.

For Tribunal member Karen Jensen, what was originally complained of to the CHRC and which now doesn’t appear in the Commission’s Statement of Particulars, is merely a “mischaracterized” misapprehension on my part and an issue that she feels can be worked out or resolved during the actual hearing. It was after reading that not-too-subtle subterfuge of a decision, that the scent of the horse manure I’d been shoveling began to waft upwards again in my mind’s nostrils.

Having been born and raised on a farm the smell of horse manure is as natural to me as the smell of fresh milk rising up from the bucket at milking time. In many ways it’s really not that bad a smell compared with the chemicals that now flood the market and over the years, when farmers and the public generally were less prone to take the word of government folks as gospel, the connotation between the two naturally evolved over time.

Anyhow, the tune lingered on and I could see in my mind’s eye Nancy and Dan, in the Tribunal office somewhere, sharing a soy latte and joking around and talking French to each other and possibly even carrying on flirtatiously when no one or no cameras were visible. All this going on in my head in my neighbour’s barn thousands upon thousands of miles away from Canada’s capital city and all because of a scheming, no-good-for-nothing little piece of chicken-shit legislation (sec. 13(1)) placed carefully into the Canadian Human Rights Act by alien forces inimical to freedom of speech and freedom of the internet.

Horse manure is good for the garden. So is chicken shit. But whether or not the manure which is being shoveled out to the Canadian public via our federal politicians and the MSM regarding Canada’s “hate” laws will prove beneficial to the growing sense of suspicion that surrounds these misplaced organizations waits to be seen. In the meantime I’ll just keep working along here at the ol’ Mac with my rubber boots on and my pitch fork close at hand.