Oh...*gag* Canada...

I just returned from a 3 day trip to Canada. Traversing the prairie for some 5 hours is bad enough without having to face a ridiculously absurd border enforcement on the part of Canadian Immigration. Picture a tiny border town in the middle of the wind-swept prairie. Here is a duty free shop looking tacky and out of place. Here is a farm house on the American side displaying a large American flag, maybe overdone. Here is a few hundred miles of unpatroled no-man's-land that is the 49th parallel. But fear not! If you happen to decide that this particular outpost of hinterland is where you shall perpetuate untold crimes against the proud people of Canada, you will be thwarted!

For about an hour my colleagues and I were detained by soft-spoken, yet freakishly manly Canadian women who were out to vet our credentials and stop evil-doers of any stripe. Our passports were ceased and scrutinized for about 30 minutes. Then we each had a private interregation that would have gotten the Pope to confess to sins that would make a sailor blush with shame. Had I ever hired an attorney? No. Really? Yes. I mean no. Sorry, what was the question? Had I ever sought legal counsel. No. Really? No. Yes. Really. What? Have you ever appeared in court. No. Never. No. You're sure. No. I mean Yes. Sure. No. No court. No lawyers. No charges? No. Never? No. You're sure? Yes. I mean, I don't think so. Ahhhhhhh!

Eventually we were freed to enter the great land that is Canada, but not before I tearfully recalled a moving violation involving a Ford Probe in 1996.

I see very little redeeming value to being Canadian. As far as I can tell being Canadian involves wishing desperately to be American while simultaneously resisting any hint of pro-Americanism. It means waiting around until 1965 to finally decide to be a real country, and then fighting with the French speaking citizens about whether they really ought to have a single country. Canadia is full of natural resources and devoid of any character. It lives in the shadow of America, is completely subject to our whim and woe, and may cease to exist once the tax rate finally reaches 120%.

I was profoundly glad to return home. I don't care if Roots does make some snazzy ski gear. I thank God NOT to have been born Canadian. If I go OAT and ABOAT to engage in some PRO-cess, I will do so with God Bless America blaring in the background of my mind.