Canada is a place that most of the world doesn’t think about very much. This fact is probably the most terrifying reality that English Canada can imagine, so Anglo-Canadians try to overdo it with the yokel-but-not-really stereotypes so that they can pretend that the rest of the world cares about them. As can be expected in such a mediocre place, Canadians put on a performance about on par with an 8th-grade recorder concert at one of Canada’s many shitty public schools.
Speaking of schooling, here’s a part of Canadian history that few people remember. In the early days after World War Two, Canada was even more restrictive than it is now. Being white, rich, and a dude wasn’t sufficient to be considered a “respectable human” – you also couldn’t come from icky loser countries like Germany or Italy. The Italians, being a fiery sort who love food immediately took issue with the English-Canadian diet and indeed the Canadian way of life, which they saw as bland, unpalatable, and restrictive. They invented our Vorpal Word with which to cut down the Canadian Jabberwocky, and that word is mangiacake – “cake-eaters”, or cakers. And so the English Canadian was titled “caker”, to distinguish them from Indigenous or Francophone communities.
Cakers love deluding themselves into thinking that working a dull job and living in formless, debt-inducing tract housing tacked to formless, unwalkable cities constitutes “the good life”. In fact, as we’ll see, Canadians and their cities are lifeless and devoid of substance. Canada’s economic realities are oligarchic, her literacy skills frightfully low, and her grievous crimes against humanity unremembered. Canadians have no history and no interest in history – the whole country is a palimpsest, capable of being scratched and rewritten to suit any commercial or civic narrative. Noting real problems results in having concerns ignored, minimized, or reacted to with a profound venom from a people who claim to be decent, intelligent, and humane.
And that, my newfound friends, is reason number one for leaving Canada. There is a soft-repression here caused by the immense defensiveness of a country that considers being chill a national trait, and I won’t have it. In my travels through this collective of suburbs I’ve encoutered others who also hate it here. It’s a wonderful feeling to find a like mind, to let loose without fear of losing friends or opportunities, and I’d like to share that feeling with other Canadians who don’t toe the national line.
I’d also like to provide a counterpoint to the millions of dollars of Canadian propaganda distributed internationally. If even one person from abroad reads these screeds and decides to skip Cakertown the whole project will have been worth it many times over. In the year that this blog has been running I’ve had thousands of views from around the world and it is my fondest hope that people who are questioning this place find footing to base their thoughts on here.
The rules are simple – if it’s shit and it’s in Canada, it’ll end up here. There are no punches pulled, no holds barred, and no excuses accepted. It’s time to stomp some cakers!