UNCLE PIZZA AGEGE BREAD

As Canada grapples with the fallout from its once-celebrated immigration boom, public frustration is boiling over. Housing shortages, strained healthcare, and job competition have turned what was a badge of national pride—welcoming half a million newcomers annually—into a political lightning rod. A recent poll reveals that just 45% of Canadians now view immigration positively, with 32% seeing it as outright negative, a stark erosion from the near-universal acclaim of the 2010s. With federal targets slashed to 395,000 permanent residents for 2025 amid these pressures, it's clear the system's openness, while humane, is buckling under its own weight.  Enter Denmark: a Nordic neighbor whose "strict love" approach to immigrant integration has not only slashed asylum claims to historic lows but also sustained sky-high public approval. Canada, with its multicultural ethos, could learn volumes from Denmark's unapologetic emphasis on rapid self-sufficiency—without abandoni...

 By Nnaemeka Udoka aka Uncle Pizza  Canada has long prided itself on being a nation of compassion, tolerance, and progressivism. From immigration to climate change, from harm reduction to criminal justice reform, our policies are often rooted in noble intentions. But in recent years, these good intentions have repeatedly collided with reality—and the result has often been dysfunction, unintended harm, and growing public frustration. Good intentions are not enough. When they’re not matched with pragmatic solutions, they often make problems worse. And disturbingly, anyone who dares to point this out is quickly dismissed—not with arguments, but with labels. Question mass immigration? You’re “anti-immigrant.” Highlight the failures of harm reduction? You’re “heartless.” Critique climate policies? You’re a “climate denier.” Demand tougher responses to crime? You’re a “fascist.” In Canada today, asking for practical solutions has become politically incorrect. The debate isn’t lost o...

  “Show me where I supported decriminalization. I am for harm reduction.” This is the kind of flowery language people use to explain away disasters. British Columbia has become a living case study in the failure of good intentions. For years, harm reduction has been the sacred cow of drug policy — a politically fashionable mantra that promises compassion, evidence, and humanity. Safe injection sites. Needle exchanges. Free naloxone kits. Drug testing strips. All publicly funded, all aimed at reducing the harms associated with drug use without necessarily reducing drug use itself. Despite this elaborate harm reduction infrastructure, BC is the epicentre of one of the deadliest drug crises in North America. Let’s remember the timeline. Harm reduction programs were well established long before January 31, 2023, when BC launched its controversial pilot program to decriminalize possession of small amounts of certain hard drugs. The overdose crisis was declared a public health emergency ...