- Dear Free Speech Supporter -
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- On Sunday, February 22, I was returning from the American
Renaissance conference in Washington, D.C., where I'd been one of the speakers.
-
- It had been a wonderful, uplifting weekend of fellowship
with people from around the world concerned about the immigration invasion
of the West.
-
- Not long after Air Canada 1097 landed at Toronto's Pearson
Airport at about 6:30 p.m., I was rudely reminded that I was back in Absurdistan,
a burgeoning police state. Forty-four people got off this flight and went
through Canada Customs and Immigration. I know because I heard the stewardess
announce the count, because the rest of the passengers had to stay on board
and continue on to Ottawa.
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- Arriving passengers go through a primary check where
passports and customs declarations are presented. Most people are just
waved on. You don't know your fate until you pass the customs official
at the end of the baggage claim area. There the cryptic scrawl on your
customs declaration tells whether the official directs you out or to a
further lounge for a secondary inspection.
-
- As a targetted politically incorrect activist and White
male to boot, I am almost always directed to the secondary inspection.
Today was no exception. The secondary inspection area was a lackadaisical
lounging area of idleness. Of six or so agents, only one was occupied.
He was pawing through clothing in several suitcases belonging to a White
couple in their '30s.
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- The Boss, a short man with greying hair, who turned out
to be one of the supervisors, announced to a coffee slurping customs agent:
"It's been a quiet day and we want to keep it that way."
-
- I was directed to Baldy, an agent with a slight French
Canadian accent. I have to give these cowards names as none of them will
give you a name. Bullies and tyrants find their tasks easier if they're
anonymous. It difficult to referring to "this guy" and "that
guy". Thus, I have to give them descriptive names.
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- Baldy begins an examination which will eventually keep
me detained for close to two hours! He paws through my briefcase, examining
the agenda of the AR. He roots through my suitcase and discovers a number
of books including five subversive copies of Jacok Grimm's Germanic Myths.
He's vaguely heard of Grimm.
-
- "He's one of the authors of Grimm's fairy tales.
This book deals with descriptions of some of the characters in these tales
fairys, norns, etc.," I tell him helpfully.
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- He summons over Charlie Chan. Now I've dealt with this
snotty-faced young Oriental agent before and he doesn't like me. Badly
and Charlie Chan go into a backroom for consultations and a phone call.
Some higher up has apparently told Charlie Chan to hit the computer and
e-mail for information. His efforts consume at least 20 minutes. They return
and look some more. Another trip inside for a consultation, more work on
the computer.
-
- I decide to use my cellphone to call and let a colleague
I was to meet know I'll be late. Immediately, another lanky idler Delbert
McDork appears and is shouting at me that I'm not allowed to use my cellphone.
-
- Baldy gets into too. "It's not allowed," he
tells me.
-
- "Hey, even in prison, they're permitted their one
phone call, " I snap back, not inclined to put up with any guff from
the Stasi.
-
- The next thing I know there's a short balding man with
a shred of reddish crew-cut. I know this diminutive bully too. He's Soldier
Wannabee. I had a run in with him in the fall. He'd ordered me away from
the examination paper, refused to allow me to read any of my newspapers
and ordered me to sit on the penalty bench. "We had this argument
three weeks ago," he barked at me.
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- "I've never been told about making calls on my cellphone,"
I answer Soldier Wannabee.
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- "Yes, I did. In December. I told you two or three
times." he snaps.
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- "I'm not going to argue with you," I say, trying
to ignore this aggressive little wasp.
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- The bully circles and frowns and postures. Eventually,
he takes up his post at one of the kiosks. Soon, he's busy eating his burger
and what looks like a salad. His only work other than showing me what a
tough guy he is, involves a young White couple. The girl is quickly cleared.
However, the fellow had failed to check off "meat" products and
Soldier Wannabee is making a big fuss about this, with officious threats
about what could happen to him for not having filled out the form correctly.
The terrified White youth is clearly shaken by the dwarfish goon's diatribe..
After about half an hour, the quiet, soft spoken youth is sent on his way.
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- A brunette female, Coffeetime Cathy does nothing but
sit at her kiosk and slurp coffee in the nearly two hours I'm there.
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- Finally, the Boss returns. I appeal to him to be able
to use my cellphone. He's more reasonable and lets me make by call.
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- Delbert McDork walks through once or twice more and then
is seen no more.
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- A bulky Negress sweeps through 15 minutes into my ordeal
and announces to her co-workers (using the term "worker" very
loosely): "I'm off on my break." I don't see her again either.
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- Oriental Princess, a youngish Chinese woman with a touch
of red streak in her otherwise black locks, is summoned by the Boss. She's
assigned to the far kiosk. She sits, sips coffee, and except, for one quick
referral, has no work for a whole hour.
-
- I continue to wait while Baldy and Charlie Chan root
through my material, make more phone calls and consult, like some weird
coach and pitcher in a tight baseball game.
-
- I recall that, on my way through the luggage area, I'd
noted that a flight from Cuba had arrived, undoubtedly laden with returning
vacationers. I keep watching for some of the returning tourists to be referred
for a secondary inspection. Are there no drugs in Cuba? Might nobody be
seeking to sneak in a couple of extra bottles of rum?
-
- More excitement! Finally, some business. Three more White
men each pushing a luggage laden baggage cart have been sent for further
scrutiny. They are Americans and seem rather in a hurry. There's some scrutiny
of some import documents. There appears to be a few minor problems. After
about 15 minutes, the three businessmen and their luggage are on their
way.
-
- Only the original White couple and I remain. Finally,
a silent Charlie Chan stacks up all my books that's right ALL, including
the 5 copies of Germanic Mythology. They are to be "detained"
I love the pompose term for stolen and sent to Ottawa for further evaluation.
Also "detained" and sent off to censorship central in the Rideau
are two copies of The Origin of the English Nation and two copies of a
fine collection of quotations by Robert Lenski entitled Toward A New Science
of Man.
-
- As my remaining stuff is packed up, I ask Baldy: "Is
there anything else you want to steal. I have a couple of breath mints."
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- "I don't think that's funny," Baldy says.
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- "I've told you before, it's not stealing. The books
are being detained for examination," Charlie Chan interrupts.
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- "These books are mine. They're not yours. Now, I
don't have them. You do. That's theft," I try to set Charlie Chan
straight.
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- Some of the positions taken by the union representing
the Customs workers actually make some sense. So, I ask Charlie Chan for
the e-mail of his union. No answer. "I guess I'd better ask someone
who speaks English," I comment.
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- I ask the Boss. "I'm not union," he says.
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- Off I go into the night to my now very much delayed supper
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- In nearly three hours, perhaps nine people have been
referred for secondary inspection, all of them White. Meanwhile, hundreds
of arriving passengers have poured through Terminal 2 U.S. and International
arrivals.
-
- The stated purpose of these inspectors is to have as
slack a day as possible. They're clearly not in the business of protecting
Canada from drugs or weapons smugglers. They show eagerness only in intercepting
ideas and books uncomfortable to their political masters, and the minority
lobbyists who pull their strings. To call Canada a political police state,
therefore, is no exaggeration.. - Paul Fromm
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