Mr. Richard Martineau: “All talk, no action” [“Grand parleur, petit faiseur”]

First, here is Mr. Martineau’s article in French, published in the Journal de Montréal today:

Second, before presenting the English translation of the article in question, Bambi would like to weigh in as follows:

She is fascinated, yet not surprised, how neither the Honourable Jody Wilson-Raybould nor Dr. Jane Philpott (congrats on her new role as Dean of Queen’s University faculty of health sciences) are mentioning this story on their social media channels. Why? Likely because they are for real these two women. They act, they do not talk just to talk. They also do not endorse ridiculous or illegal acts, regardless by whom. Needless to add that Ms. Wilson-Raybould currently serves as an Independent Member of Parliament for the British Columbia riding of Vancouver Granville. She is also a member of the We Wai Kai Nation and to use her own words “a proud Canadian”. In addition to her forthcoming academic role, Dr. Philpott is the Special Advisor on Health for Nishnawbe Aski Nation and we all know about her genuine care for our First Nations people.   

Third and last, below starts Mr. Martineau’s article, which is surely food for thought, to say the least (sarcastic yet full of truth).   

“Oh he speaks well, our Prime Minister!

Women’s rights, blahblahblah.

The environment, blahblahblah

First Nations, blahblahblah.

Comfortable, in control, with just the right amount of emotion.

The gloomy days

And what about his new disguise – that short beard (i.e., salt and pepper goatee) he found in the bottom of his trunk, between a Sikh turban, a fakir tunic, and a pair of slippers?

It suits him perfectly, adding to his personality a “je ne sais quoi” of wisdom and maturity…

Gone, the little guy with the wet navel. Now, he has the look of an experienced head of state!

Who knows? In six months, we may see him with a pipe, thinking aloud about the state of the world in front of a fireplace, an open atlas on a pedestal table …

In short, when the time comes to speak, there is no one like our “national” Justin.

But when the time comes to act, however, as is the case now with the railroad blockade, our PM is as comfortable as a fish on an ironing board.

Where’s Justin?

He went to take his Bovril, come on!


I know what you are going to tell me…

“The matter is however simple: a citizen disobeys the law? Send the police to arrest him, thank you, have a good evening”.

In theory, indeed, the matter is simple.

But in practice, it is not.

Because the citizens who are currently blocking railways and taking the country by the family jewels are members of the First Nations.

And in this era of exacerbated political correctness, where one climbs the curtains as soon as a “White” dares – oh scandal! – to make sushi in the kitchen, you don’t mess with the First Nations.

Not a gala, a show or an event that begins without an announcer reminding us, in a serious and dramatic tone, that “the performance you are going to see this evening takes place in unceded Native territory”…

So imagine what would happen if the police charged in the pile and arrested the culprits!

The images would go around the world in three and a half seconds.

“Look how we treat the members of the First Nations in the country of Justin Trudeau!” The UN should get involved! “

The image of our Prime Minister would be shattered.

And he cares about his image, Justin. After all, that’s all he has…


So he’s trying to buy time.

Especially since he’s in Africa, doing what he enjoys most in the world: talking.

The greatness of Africa, blahblahblah.

The guilt of the West, blahblahblah.

The importance of bringing Canada to the Security Council, blahblahblah.

And then, why bring the PM back when Marc Garneau is so well seated in Ottawa?

We had to see the Minister of Transport makes this Québec’s problem.

Go stop them, these Amerindians, that’s not our problem!

Oh no? The First Nations file is not a federal responsibility?

Come on. I may be alarmist, but I find (excuse my cultural appropriation) that this whole story is starting to smell like lasagna…”

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