On Hard Times and Waiting for Santa: A Whimsical Entreaty from Kevin Annett
Some years ago, over a glass of his favorite bourbon, my Dad reminded me why as a youngster I kept believing in Santa Claus. In these struggling days when our campaign’s fiscal gas tank is nearing empty, it’s an appropriate yarn to recall.
It was the week before Christmas in the year 1963. JFK had just been whacked, although the event made little impression on my seven year old mind except when one of my grade two colleagues was sent to stand in the hallway when he responded to the teacher’s query, “What begins with ‘O’?” with a cheeky “Oswald!”. On the Annett household front, my mother was engaged in her usual pre-Yuletide shopping hysteria, goaded on by Dad’s tendency to display a general indifference to buying a lot of shit caused by the fact that he was usually broke.
To make Planet Annett even more interesting, one cold Winnipeg morning I apparently raced into the house in a state of angst after I’d chatted with our neighbour’s kid, Andrea Ginsburg. With your standard Jewish chutzpah, Andrea had informed me with the certainty of one of the Chosen People that No, Kevin, you schmuck, there really is no Santa Claus. It’s your parents who give you all those gifts.
As was my wont, I immediately went to my older brother Bill for clarity and solace.
Ever the born operator – he’s just retired from the corporate world with loads of ill-gotten lucre – Bill replied without batting an eye,
“Aw, come on Kev! Of course it’s Santa who gives us presents! You know Dad could never afford to buy all that stuff!”
That made perfect sense to me, of course. And so I kept the faith for another few years.
Belief in a saviour – whether he’s bestowed with a beard and a sack of goodies or not – is an occupational illness of people under fire. Once we get clobbered enough and the waves of oblivion lap over us, we naturally look to something or someone who’ll pull us out before we go under for the third time. Or, a bit further down the maturation road, we learn to find a way out for ourselves.
There is, of course, a third option: we can help each other out of the turbulence.
In an atomized and narcissistic culture like ours, the latter choice is easier said than done. Regardless of their politics or spirituality, North Americans don’t think in terms of “we” but “me”. For instance, just this past week a supporter of our Republic of Kanata demanded why I hadn’t shown up in her community and given the common law workshop that I’d promised.
“Because I’m broke” I answered.
“Well then just meditate and manifest the money!” she snapped glibly.
“How about you folks just help raise the funds for my travel?” I countered.
The woman said nothing.
My lifelong tendency to never ask for help and to refuse payment for doing what is right certainly hasn’t helped me stay materially afloat. I’ve never copyrighted anything I write or produce, and I routinely give away my books and even my paltry funds to those who need them. Most people enable that tendency in me by assuming that “Kev will do it, he can do anything, he brought down the pope! He’s our hero!”. The arrangement is far from realistic.
Facts are stubborn things, and the fact is that the enormous freedom movement I’ve helped to create is falling far short of its goals because of a basic lack of sustaining income. Our work lives completely hand to mouth. But now with 2020 approaching and new campaigns being planned on many fronts, we need to raise a minimal operating fund if our common law Republic and child protection movement is to find wings again.
The target amount of that fund is $50,000. With those funds here’s what we’ll do:
- Commence a documentary film project that details on the ground the ongoing genocide in Canada, as a sequel to our award-winning film Unrepentant
- Continue the work of the West Coast Tribunal into Canadian War Crimes, which has documented and linked the Trudeau government with Chinese organ and child traffickers
- Commence a cross-continent organizing tour by me in the new year to build Common Law Peoples’ Assemblies in more than two dozen communities
- Establish the Republic of Kanata in local Canadian communities
- Train Republic Sheriffs to arrest and bring to common law trial the traffickers and killers of children.
Whether any of that happens is up to you.
I’ve been under a total blacklisting for over two decades. Our successes have been thanks to the support from people like you. Your consistent financial backing is now all the more crucial. Online fundraising systems like Patreon and Go Fund Me that we’ve relied on have denied us access to the pledges made to our movement and then fogged their fraudulent criminality. The sabotaging hand of the corporate State reaches far.
So here’s how you can help Kev keep believing in Santa Claus:
1. Send us a cheque; or a bunch of them, post-dated. Make them out to William Annett (yup, that’s my Dad) and mail them to him at 1823 Ridgewood Avenue, Apt. 207, Holly Hill, Florida USA 32117.
3. If you really love me and want to arrange a bigger donation, contact me directly at firstname.lastname@example.org and we can arrange a direct wire transfer or a cash drop off in the middle of the night in a musty garage somewhere.
By the way, any one of you who pledges $100 or more to us will receive a signed copy of any two of my books listed below, plus a free dinner at the Bonanza All You Can Eat restaurant in Winnipeg.
Okay, I was just kidding about that last bit.
I trust in the power of truth and the good will of all of you. But I have to admit that some part of me is holding out for a really big Santa Claus to come through: like the guy from Texas who every month or so assures me that once the “Global Financial Reset” happens he’s sending our work a cool $150,000. Of course, he started promising me that nearly eight years ago. As with the Second Coming, I ain’t holding my breath.
And so dear Santa, in your many ordinary guises, help us save lives and recover our liberties. Pledge what you can, consistently, and make possible our $50,000 goal.
With my thanks and yuletide cheer,
Kevin Annett / Eagle Strong Voice
Ps: Just for the record, I don’t hold any childhood grudge against my Dad for being broke back then. But his bad jokes still bug me.