In many quarters,
nationalism has become a dirty — though
not a four-letter — word. We're all
supposed to be part of a so-called global
village, embracing one another with
outstretched arms, welcoming all and sundry
to what used to be our own little piece of
Personally, I don't welcome anybody
anymore — the habitable part of this
continent is full. And if people on other
land masses insist on screwing like rabbits,
well, put a fence around them and let them
deal with the consequences.
But I digress.
Nationalism, though suppressed, seems to
demand some sort of outlet. And it took, of
all things, a beer company to step in and
fill the void created by the one-worlders.
Somewhere, some ad agency found a
moronic-sounding idiot to tout the joys of
being a Canadian. This so-called
"actor' sounds like a mental patient,
badly in need of a shot of Thorazine or
He feels a compulsion to shout to the
world that he has a prime minister and not a
president. He takes pride in announcing that
he pronounces the last letter of the
alphabet "zed" rather than
"zee." So then, why not
"eh," "bed," "ced,"
"ded," "ed" . . . ?
Who gives a crap what this imbecile
Is the average Canadian so insecure that
he has to make all that noise to convince
himself that he is as good as, or better
than, his neighbor to the south?
Apparently so. According to an April 28th
article in the Washington Post, entitled
"I'M ME AND DAMN PROUD OF IT; CANADIAN
BEER AD AROUSES NATIONALIST SENTIMENT IN THE
POLITEST OF PEOPLES," when this dolt
made an appearance at a hockey game in
Ottawa, fans actually embraced and cheered
his shrill ranting.
I find that unfathomable. Watching this
character, I want to see him
institutionalized and sodomized by deranged
inmates. Maybe they could "F" some
sense into him!
As if prompted by propagandists at
Canada's Ministry of Love, this play-for-pay
cretin gyrates about the stage professing
his preference for "diversity"
I guess that's what really irks me. If he
wants to prattle on about the glorious
beaver, a rodent only one step up on the
food chain from a sewer rat, that's one
thing. But when this idiot starts espousing
the virtues of multiculturalism, it grates
on my nerves worse than fingernails scraping
across a blackboard.
Screw diversity! I for one, much prefer the
idea of some kind of melting pot to this
"diversity" crap. If you want to
live here, adapt to our ways. You know, when
in Rome . . .
You didn't come here because it was so
great over there.
The streets of our major cities sound
like the goddamn Tower of Babel — not to
mention the foul stench. Fulton's Fish
Market in Brooklyn has nothing on upper
Parliament Street in Toronto.
It's bad enough that "our"
government shoves this multicult garbage
downs our throats on their state-sponsored,
taxpayer-funded propaganda channel, the
much-despised and largely unwatched CBC —
we don't need to be force-fed this drivel on
real channels via dopey beer commercials.
F-them and their monkey piss beer! I
never liked that swill anyway, but I sure as
hell wouldn't think of touching it now.
If national pride hinges on a cruddy beer
commercial, maybe we're better off becoming
part of the United States of North America.
Think of the advantages. Mileage could
properly be measured in miles once again.
Our money would actually be worth something
on the world market. We could elect our
senators and judges. Of course we'll be
stuck with Janet Reno and her BATF goons,
but you gotta take the bad with the good. We
could choose a new leader every four years
instead of suffering through five or more
years of misrule at a time. Although I've
never been much of a Clinton fan, I think
I'd rather have someone at the helm who
receives oral favors than a recycled old
has-been who sounds like he's on the giving
Once upon a time there were good reasons
to exhibit pride in being Canadian. But so
much of what made this country great has
been discarded in deference to the rest of
the world's "exports." With the
exception of hockey — which I find boring
— and that crappy beer, there are few
traditions left to embrace.
And, try as I might, I find it impossible
to get excited — and wrap myself in a flag
that looks like a beer label — over some
glassy-eyed nutbar selling nationalism in a