There is an old saying, the source of which now eludes me, a stray line in an old and musty book, the grizzled quip of a day laborer, or even the off-handed truism of a hermetic philosopher, which, as I have ventured this charred and dying Earth, alas, appears to be the very essence of existence, the very pin holding the loose and poorly stitched clothes together as they droop, barely covering the many pustules, boils, and lacerations that pock all of human life: “Oftentimes, that’s what the fuck life is: one vile fucking task after another”.

An oppressive and bleak notion, indeed. Yet, hitherto we have been less than forthright in it’s all encompassing despotism. For there exists a land which servers as counter balance, an idyll and verdant paradise filled with splendor, good tidings, magic, hidden so long for reasons surely valid when they were first writ in stone and proclaimed to those who had been able to dwell there – but this is selfish, says I!

Rather, the gates should be thrown open, arms unfolded and opened up for hearty embraces! The glasses shall clinkle, eyes shall twinkle, and a great merry reverie shall be ours this day! A great and happy song shall arise like the mist of the morning dew, waft down the mountain side and inveigh all those who toil without to journey here and find their respite within.

Yes, indeed! Let us all mingle together in a choragus and laugh away tragedy! Let us pierce the dreary grey clouds with the ardent light of our collective soul! Let us all dine and cavort among one another in a splendid banquet, bounteous and bully!

Let us venture to that glorious and perfect place, transcending this and other phenomenological and imaginal planes, that pristine and marvelous expanse of greenery and sublime vistas, that endless well of spiritual rejuvenation and unceasing dynamo of love. Let us go to RealCanada!

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