What's the Point of the Green Party?

Dispatch #9: When even the Conservatives have a climate policy, it’s time to reevaluate your entire reason for existence.

What’s the point of the Green Party? To split the left-wing vote. I can’t see any other reason.

Unless Elizabeth May lost a bet or made a deal with the devil. She’s stuck LARPing as Canada’s Greta Thunberg’s aunt. She’ll never age or die—we’re just stuck with her and nobody questions it.

But when even the Conservatives have a climate policy, it’s time to reevaluate your entire reason for existing.

Sure, Poilievre’s “climate policy” might just be Ray from Trailer Park Boys living at the dump. But at least he’s doing it in his old sleeper cab.

Mark Carney is a techno-feudal central banker in net-zero drag. For the Liberals, climate change means chartering private jets that serve Nova Scotia lobster while they lecture you about carbon-offset Ponzi schemes.

For us, it’s eat das bugz.
And pay more taxes.

Which reminds me: what the shit is the Green Party even for?

It feels less like a movement and more like Elizabeth May’s cult—one where the incense smells like patchouli and regret. Where even the Kool-Aid is fair-trade, and the robes are made from recycled hemp.

She’s drunk on status—figuratively and probably literally—like a petty border guard with too much authority and not enough serotonin.

When she dies—nay, if she dies (I don’t know what kind of demonic pact she made)—the party goes with her.

Unless… we hijack it.

Occupy Green Party?

Why not?

Join up. Get a couple dozen friends.
Call it a hostile takeover—like Elon buying Twitter, but without the fascism.
And instead of reinstating Trump, we build a network of eco-villages in Canada’s north.

We swap ‘hate speech’ for horse barns.

At some point, even Poilievre fanboys will start nodding along.

So what’s the point of the Green Party?

To bring down techno-feudalism before it updates itself at 2 a.m. without our consent—only to crash, reboot, and come back with even more bugs than before.

The NDP ain’t stopping it.
Their climate plan is wrapped in layers of land acknowledgements and feelings.

Carney’s already got his name on the dystopian currency. And Poilievre? He’s just hoping to bRiNg iT hOmE and build a Made-in-Canada feudal economy.

Right boot instead of left boot—
still a boot to the face.

So let’s redefine the whole damn thing.

The Green Party isn’t here to “fight climate change.”

It’s here to smash the machine before it eats us all.

Rebranded Green Party: A Manifesto for Realistic Maniacs

The Greens were never going to win.

Not this election. Not the next. They’re lucky to have a couple of seats and a Wikipedia page.

Who knows what this election will bring. In the meantime, we just have to terrify the right people.

You don’t need seats in the House of Commons to be relevant.

Imagine it: a hijacked rebranded Green Party turned into a decentralized psy-op with a compost pile.

What’s the point of this Green Party?

• End the central bank monopoly.
  If the Bank of Canada can print money, so can we.
  But ours will be backed by gold, silver, bison hide, weed, shells, PEI red sand, Tim Hortons gift cards, Canadian Tire money, cigarettes, booze, hash-coin—anything, really.

• Legalize currency competition.
  Pay people in crypto or carrots. That’s between you and your local merchant.

• Defund the chartered bank oligarchy.
  If you think Monopoly is just a board game, you’re part of the problem.

• Burn the tax code.
  One flat gram of gold per year. That’s your tax burden.
  Everyone’s tax burden. Equally.
  Anything beyond that? Extortion.

Monetary policy? Dunzo. Now let’s fix where you live—because real estate is a flaming circus tent full of street people and granite countertops.

Housing is the #1 issue this election, no?

Or it was, until boomers and legacy media made Trump a priority to everyone else’s annoyed dismay. The rest of us are still fighting over micro-loft closets built for jaded UX designers with gluten allergies.

• Urban Policy
  Rooftop gardens or bust.
  The abolition of boomer lawn care.
  Everyone read Jane Jacobs.
  Live like an urban druid.
  Build another Tim Hortons on topsoil, you get sent to the worm farm.

• Earthships only.
  Your home must be made of tires, bottles, and revolutionary intent.

• Boomer homes = too big.
  Shame them into downsizing.
  Or at least renting out the basement to that 36-year-old couple with the biological clock and an Etsy candle side hustle.

• Crown land = community land.
  You can’t homestead a skyscraper, but you can build a village where the moose still outnumber the people.

Let’s not overdo it, though.

If we’re going to claim parts of nature, we should give some back, too.
Return abandoned suburbs and hollowed-out city cores to the wild.
Let raccoons have their time.

Still with me?

Because I’m only starting to get weird.

The Laptop Class vs. The Dirt Class

We ain’t no Marxists.

Every new ecovillage has two kinds of people:

• The builders – engineers, carpenters, masons, roofers, farmers, blacksmiths, goat whisperers.

• The laptop class – remote workers who pretend to do marketing while funding the local economy with their alcoholism and 2pm Zoom calls.

Builders keep the lights on (literally). Laptop crew keep the bison fed by invoicing tech bros and paying for coffee with their phones.

One group knows how to install a hemp-based septic system. The other bills a San Francisco startup selling AI-generated sex therapy and gender-neutral dopamine tracking apps.

Don’t hate the symbiosis.

The Dirt Class might side-eye the Laptop Class for never touching a shovel. The Laptop Class might start feeling like soft-handed indoor cats waiting for DoorDash.

But here’s the truth: without fresh capital, the village dies.

So we make peace with class divisions.
We trade labour for liquidity.
Compost for crypto.
And in the end? Everyone gets penicillin.

Because fear of a bad winter is what separates us from our ancestors. That and a decent Wi-Fi signal. And the laptop class is what separates us from Jonestown 2.0.

Hippie Propaganda, Authoritarian-Libertarian Fusion, and Horses

We’re not hugging trees.
We’re weaponizing them.

The Rebranded Green Party will use propaganda—just like every government does.

Think: “Eat Local or Die.”

Every schoolchild will learn to milk a goat by age five. Every six-year-old will be able to explain fractional reserve banking before recess. The Big Comfy Couch becomes a cautionary tale about fiat currency and government overreach.

This won’t be like ’Nam. There will be rules.

Minimal government.
Maximum force.

• Eat ultra-processed garbage? Shamed.

• Brag about your 3,000-square-foot home with no children? Shamed.

• Buy a new iPhone every year with your disability cheque?
  Public flogging. (Non-lethal. Eco-certified rope. Made locally.)

But…

• Riding a horse?

• Living in a yurt and trading mead for dental care?

• Growing your own magic mushrooms and blogging about it?

That’s peace, order, and good government.

The ultimate authoritarian-libertarian fusion.

The true political centre—where freedom meets peer pressure, and everyone proudly uses a compost toilet with an artisanal cedar seat.

Bison Are the Future

I’m not eating fucking bugs. And lab-grown meat? Never mind—pass the bugs.

Or… we chase wild bison through the prairies like our ancestors. Only now we’ve got GoPros and better cardio.

Bison are the only meat that regenerates the land and feeds the soul.

• Cows wreck the topsoil.

• Chickens are neurotic little fucks.

• Pigs? For enforcing the law.
  (And, the occasional side of bacon.)

But bison?

Bison are the solution.
Their manure revitalizes the earth.
Their meat heals the body.
Their gaze pierces the soul and whispers: “Reveen…Patrick Swayze...”

Some of us will farm them.
Others will live among them.
Honor them. Worship them.
And when the time comes—eat them.

With gratitude.
And hot sauce.

Healthcare?

Canada’s healthcare problem is easily solvable.

We don’t even have to scrap the Soviet system we’re currently duct-taping together. We just need to add two pillars:

Prevention and ridicule.

Eat like shit, move like a sloth, scroll till your eyes bleed—guess what?
You’re gonna feel like garbage.
We don’t call that “mental health.”
That’s a lifestyle adjustment opportunity.

So we’ll force-feed you bison and make you weed the garlic garden until you feel better.

We’ll keep universal healthcare—but it’ll be locally run and come with a light sprinkle of social coercion.

You want state-funded care? Great. But your village better have a blacksmith. You want dental options? Build a greenhouse first.

Also: No corporate sugar lobby within 1,000 km. If your product has 37 ingredients and none of them are food, it’s now classified as a chemical weapon.

Foreign Policy? Eco-Colonialism.

Canada’s military should have one job:
Defend the Arctic and harass polluters.

If we’re going to play world police, let’s at least do it for the trees.

• China burns coal?
  Buzz their factories with drones that blast whale songs until they quit.

• Brazil keeps torching the Amazon?
  We airdrop firefighting militias strapped to solar-powered gliders.

• America fracks Newfoundland and Labrador?
  We draft every junior hockey player who didn’t make the NHL and declare eco-martial law.

First rule of eco-martial law?
Everyone gets an illegally imported handgun and a live, pissed-off, passive-aggressive Canadian goose.

We’re not warmongers.
We’re just intense gardeners with tanks.

What’s the Point of the Green Party?

To end techno-feudalism and bring back a world where you can ride a horse to the farmer’s market, trade gold for meat, and have strong opinions about the compost.

To dismantle consumerism—
with a smile and a shovel.

To create a decentralized federation of bioregional eco-villages where everyone is either slightly insane or completely free—and ideally both.

To replace “own nothing and be happy” with “own goats and be slightly smug about it.”

To gut the bureaucracy,
shame the gluttons,
heal the land,
and finally—finally—
give Elizabeth May the early retirement she never asked for.

This isn’t about Left vs. Right.
It’s about living with nature instead of being chronically online.

It’s about Dirt vs. Cloud.

And the Green Party should be Team Dirté.