A monologue uses Ride the Cyclone, an off-Broadway musical about six choir members who die on a broken roller coaster, as a metaphor for Trump's 10% tariff on Canada. The speaker calls the tariff theatrical and self-serving, arguing Canada's resilience and pragmatism matter more than loud spectacle.
Chapters
So I see Chairman Trump put another 10% tariff on Canada today because he's mad that we quoted Ronald Reagan to his country. "But over the long run, such trade barriers hurt every American worker." Honestly, I have lost count of what number we're at. And in some ways it doesn't really matter, does it? Up, down, it's like a roller coaster. Who knows where we are? I love musicals. I have seen Rent 6 times. I've seen Legally Blonde more, trust me. Sleeper hit. And rounding out my top 3 is a show that you have probably never heard of, one that was written right here on Vancouver Island by a troupe called Atomic Vaudeville. It's called Ride the Cyclone. Jocelyn and I saw it when it was workshopping in Vancouver. It sold out Chicago. It was an Off-Broadway hit. It's about 6 kids, all members of the St. Cassian High School Chamber Choir of Uranium, Saskatchewan. The show starts, they are at a carnival, they are about to board an aging roller coaster called the Cyclone. Now, if you think you might see this show, swipe away, leave, because I'm about to spoil the main plot line. They're dead. They're all dead. They're all dead. They get on the roller coaster, they get to the top, the front axle breaks, hurtling them all to their death. This happens in the first 2 minutes of the show. And then you're sailing through space, you don't know up from down, and you feel a little strange. They end up in limbo between life and death. They're facing a fortune-telling machine named the Amazing Carnac. He tells them that one of them, and only one, gets to come back to life. But to earn it, they each have to tell a story. So they sing, they plead, they joke, they remember who they were, who they wanted to be. It's tragic and weird and— funny and touching. By the end, you realize it's not about death at all. It's about how people react when the ride breaks and the only thing left keeping them upright is each other. These tariffs, they are a roller coaster. But Trump has forgotten one critical point in his strategy: the Canadian spirit. And the one defining characteristic of our nation, that even in the worst of times, we do not give up on each other. We adjust, we innovate, we trade with countries that still respect us. We are still the adults in the room. The high school choir kids are dead. Reagan's dead. Our relationship with the United States is dead. The only one who doesn't seem to know it is the guy still shaking the controls, yelling about how— how great the view is from the top of the roller coaster. Don't be fooled. Every time Trump lashes out, it is not strategy. It's theater. He's Karnak, pulling the lever, pretending it's destiny, when really it's just another trick to keep the spotlight on himself. What he hasn't realized is that the world has figured him out. He's a blowhard, nothing more. And we are all a little tired of this carnival. I'm not going to spoil the ending of the show, but I will tell you that Ride the Cyclone does not end with resurrection, but with acceptance. The kids realize that value is not measured by how loud you sing or how loudly you demand attention, but by what you leave behind when the ride is over. Maybe that's our role in all of this. To remind the world that calm is not weakness, it's strength. And that when the carnival finally leaves town, it's the steady hands that rebuild what the world broke.
