It’s been well over a week now since Ammon Bundy and his militia men took over the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge headquarters in Oregon.

As the harsh winter falls like ash around them, neither the Federal Government nor The Citizens for Constitutional Freedom have shown even a hint of quit.

****************************

The Citizens for Constitutional Freedom Press Conference, January 14th, 2016

Ammon Bundy: Once again, our intelligence gathering services have had to bring us some very bad news.

On the heels of the death of our great teacher and brother, David Bowie, another true patriot and giant amongst men has been taken from us. Our comrade, Alan Rickman, star of stage and screen, has fallen.

Ryan Bundy: This is bullcrap, man!! Bullcrap!!

Ammon Bundy: Easy brother, easy.

Ryan Bundy: By the hammer of Grabthar, we shall be avenged!!

Ammon Bundy: Rickman died as he lived, with his boots on.

While carrying out an assault on a government facility in Northern California, Rickman was struck down by a hail of gunfire from CIA operatives posing as paramedics. It was a cowardly and treacherous act and….What? Well, where did you hear that? Really? Really? Did TMZ report that, too? Well, geez. Cancer, hunh? Do they think it was planted in his body by the government. Inconclusive, eh? Okay. Okay. Give me a moment. Just bear with me! This is a very stressful time, okay? Don’t forget, I’m fighting tyranny here, for you and your children, so just cut me some slack! I’m doing God’s will, not yours, okay!?

(Conference is interrupted for five minutes)

Ammon Bundy: Okay, thanks for your patience. Sometimes constitutional freedom take a little bit of time.

Our intelligence department has just confirmed that Alan Rickman died under very mysterious circumstances late last night. Naturally, many of my men– myself included–have been shaken to the core by this devastating news. I’m not going to lie to you, it’s not my style, but there were more than a few tears shed last night. Three more of our men, devastated by grief, just like when Ziggy Stardust took his final bow, left the encampment and returned home this morning, and as always we wish them Godspeed.

Ryan Bundy: May our comrades ride as swiftly and surely to their families as Alan Rickman to Kate Winslet, in his portrayal of noble Colonel Brandon in Sense and Sensibility!

Ammon Bundy: As always, we will continue the battle, to be the tip of the spear, just as Professor Severus Snape would have wanted. If he were here right now, he would cast a spell on the government and we would all be enjoying the land that is rightfully ours to profit from.

It is hard to imagine, but it was only a few short weeks ago that my family and I sat around enjoying Rickman’s brilliant work in that modern Christmas classic, Love Actually. Yeah, I can see more than a few smiles in the press gallery, there. Rickman spoke to us all, even godless, liberal media, and he had the truly unique ability to tap into the soul of the white, middle-aged man and speak directly to us.

Ryan Bundy: Lord, I related, I related so hard, for who amongst our clan hasn’t made the mistake of giving our wives a Joni Mitchell CD for Christmas!?

Ammon Bundy: Hallelujah, brother, don’t I know it!

Alan Rickman told the difficult truths. His portrayal of complex antagonists is what made me want to get into the business of fighting for the Constitution and taking over government buildings. I had always hoped to find an adversary as strong and charismatic as Rickman– a Hans Gruber to my John McClane.

We will miss him truly, madly and deeply. May a flight of angels carry you home, brave soldier.

]]> http://michaelmurray.ca/militia-men-on-alan-rickman/feed 0 http://michaelmurray.ca/giving-away-a-gift-basket http://michaelmurray.ca/giving-away-a-gift-basket#respond Fri, 21 Dec 2012 17:13:08 +0000
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http://michaelmurray.ca/?p=3005 On Thursday I found myself in the rather unusual position of giving a gift basket to a homeless person. As I walked down the street, our leashed Miniature Dachshund held by one hand and the gift basket balanced in the other, I considered who I should give the basket to. I take the dog for a walk on Bloor pretty much everyday, and I know most of the people who hang out on my stretch, some of whom I like more than others. I figured that I should give it to the least appealing person, to somebody whose life was rendered more difficult by an inability to interact with the mainstream. In short, I should challenge myself to give it somebody I didn’t like and from whom I would get little in the way of gratitude.  I wanted to divorce whatever my needs might be from this small act as much as was possible, I guess.

It was a cold day in Toronto, blank and windy, and none of the people I was accustomed to seeing were around. The woman normally stationed right at the corner of Huron and Bloor, the one that I don’t much like, wasn’t there. Neither was the ghost man in front of the Second Cup or the woman with the swollen legs who dozes on the bench. It was too cold, and they must have all been taking shelter somewhere.

And then I saw two young students, happy and kissing on the street corner. Bright-eyed and lost in one another, they seemed wholly ascendant and in love, drawn to one another as if out of the pure, unbidden force of chemistry. Radiating optimism, they were a little stream of light running through this otherwise bleak day and I thought about giving the basket to them. I imagined how special they and their love would feel, that out of the entire universe– on the eve of the apocalypse, no less– they were chosen for this gift. At night they would feed one another the weird, unpredictable delicacies from the package, and cozy in their student apartment would watch a favourite movie on the laptop, excited about going home for Christmas, about growing up and being in love.

But then I thought, “No, I should stick to my plan.”

And so I kept walking and very soon came across an old man reclining defiantly on the sidewalk as if a Playboy centerfold. A burning cigarette was in the hand that propped up his head, his toque was askance, his beard dirty, yellow and mean, and he had a look of permanent indifference to him. I asked him if he wanted the gift basket. He asked what it was, more of a challenge than a question, really, and I told him. He said sure and so I put it down beside him. I don’t think he thanked me– it was just more stuff, something he might be able to translate into something useful to him.  As this was taking place a young woman was walking into the Noodle Bowl and witnessed this unexpected moment on the last day of the world, “Merry Christmas,” she yelled, chasing after me, “that was beautiful, Merry Christmas, Merry, Merry Christmas, and I love your dog, she’s just the cutest thing, oh, this is the best, thank you, thank you! You have no idea how much I needed that!”