Saturday, December 06, 2008
The Canadian Coup And Now Who Looks Stupid?
I grew up in Olcott Beach, NY. From my vantage point the sun set on Toronto every night. Toronto was magical – it was a real city with a tower and a 48% exchange rate on cash money. They had the best FM radio stations in the world , with all of that CFNY and The Mars Bar. Canada gave us SCTV, House Of Frightenstein (best children's show ever), and 1:00 AM curling matches. Before US Homeland Security ruined everything on the NY border, high school students in western NY towns were empowered to skip school and spend the day in Toronto. It was the thing to do, not so long ago, to be buying used albums on Young and Bloor.
Then Dubya got elected. The teat of Canadian kindness all but dried up. “You people are stupid and retarded,” Canada would say. “We pay our citizens to have babies in Canada, and provide free healthcare, eh? And what do YOU do in the US? Let morons steal your government. You embarrass North America. Major assholes, eh.” For eight long years, my Canadian friends have gone out of their way to shove my head into a dirty toilet because of Dubya. I thought you were my friend until I found out you were waiting for my nation to screw up, just so you could have a self-righteous laugh.
Well, well. What’s up with Canada these days, hmm?
Oh looky thar! Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper has shut down parliament to avoid a No Confidence vote, because he’s a dillhole conservative who hasn’t the first clue about what he is doing (and he is ruining everything). That’s what I said - what a poopchute Stephen Harper is! As much as I hate to point fingers, 46% of you Canadians elected him. At least I can prove Dubya stole our elections…
So tell me, Canada, how does it feel when you can’t find your own asshole with both hands? Doesn’t it suck? Don’t you just hate being defined by your bad management? Don’t I know it. Baby baby baby. Mmm.
Canada - I wouldn’t dare kick you when you are down, as much as you have kicked me, and so we have a choice. Either you let me help you work through your pain and make the world better, or you better ask me to laugh at your greasy arteries full of back-bacon and Tim Horton’s crullers. What’s it going to be, Mr. I’m Better Than You Eh? It’s your call.
There’s an awful load of dripping mess in the world, dear Canada, and it might behoove us to be pals again and work stuff out. My arms are wide open. No matter how you choose to go forward, I’m certain the sun sets on your shiny city in Ontario – with or without your consent. I’m here. You’re there. We are inches apart.