You go for decades without even thinking of the place. The Great White North. Very polite people, somewhat Scottish, seems like. There’s poutine! Une invention Québécoise — an indigestible mélange of French fries, gravy, and cheese curds, like something you’d cook up at 4am after a toga party in a frat house. Ice hockey (of course, but was it necessary?) Polar bears. Puffins on the Labrador cliffs. Tar Sands. Plaid upholstery . . . .
Years ago, we used to go up there from college in the farthest reaches of upstate western New York just to get a half-fake buzz of being in “a foreign country.” Niagara Falls was like Times Square without the charm. Bunch of squalid wax museums and ashtray shoppes. Toronto was Rochester on steroids, beyond forgettable.
I once took a choo-choo train from Seattle to Vancouver just to take in the scenery along the Pacific Coast. Bald eagles galore all the way up feeding on stuff out in the Pacific tidal mud-flats. Got to Vancouver. They yanked me out of the customs line and stuffed me in a back office. A female immigration officer swaggered in, said they found a nine-year-old DUI conviction for me on some computer (well. . .. okay. . . a night of fishing with rum). Said she could keep me out of the country if she was in a bad mood. I couldn’t help wising off: “Nice to know Canadian immigration policy depends on your mood.” Whoops. They detained me for an extra two hours just to make me feel the pain. But I was eventually released into that boring city. Thank God for the Chinese restaurants.
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And now. . . Mark Carney! He’s a beauty. A refined ectoplasmic manifestation of all the Globalist huggermugger working tirelessly to upend Western Civ. He has a weird glow of semi-transparency — not in the sense of revealing any truths, but more like you can partly see through him . . . he’s only half there . . . a ghost in the geopolitical machine.
More to the point, Mark Carney has made himself a pain-in-the-ass for President Donald Trump. On the surface, this US / Canada rift appears to be all about trade relations. Naw. It’s about Mark Carney being a tool for merry old England attempting to capture the resource base of northern North America to collateralize what little remains of the UK’s once-sprawling, now sinking, empire. England is not so merry these days. It has somehow managed to issue a fatwa on itself and entered a gruesome process of assisted economic and cultural suicide. You can’t even raise a British flag there anymore without risking weeks in the slammer. The home folks get stabbed and beheaded. It’s all blight, rape, kebabs, and hijabs over there. Not a good look if you still want to be that country you dimly remember.
Plus, they want to kick off a big war with Russia. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Really? Lacking much of a military, Ukraine was Britain’s tool for that. Trouble was the huge expense of that project. Thought they could work-around it by turning Ukraine into a money-laundry, washing, rinsing, and disbursing US-sourced funds to Mr. Zelenskyy, with giant kickbacks to the Democratic Party’s money apparatus. Worked nicely when the phantom “Joe Biden” haunted the White House. He and his sicko son, Hunter, were already in so deep in Ukraine since JB’s felonious veepdom that Mark Carney — then chief of the Bank of England — could hang the Bidens out to dry anytime, if required.
Lo, these many years, then, Britain and NATO have sponsored all that drone-making and missile-launching action from Ukraine deep into Russia — in case you wonder how Zelenskyy carries on this stupid war, considering there are no young men left in Ukraine eligible to reinforce the battle lines in Donbas. Britain and NATO probably also furnish the satellite targeting of Russian assets. You must doubt that the USA is involved in that anymore. Luckily, Mr. Putin has the Christian patience of a true saint.
Our president is sick of Ukraine and the festering geopolitical disease it has been infected with by our increasingly-former allies in Europe. NATO’s aim with Russia is exactly the same as Britain’s push in Canada — a resource grab for the failing nations of Europe, who are getting choked to death by Ursula von der Leyen and her EU flying monkeys. Germany, France, the Netherlands, Italy, Spain. . . all whirling around the drain. Our president sees all that. (You don’t need magic glasses.)
Maybe it’s time to just send the 82nd Airborne into Ottawa. Flight time: under two hours from Fort Bragg, NC. Drop them on Parliament Hill. Let them hang around a few hours. Then, declare the whole thing a gag and fly them home. It’d be worth it. Or maybe go in and snatch Mark Carney like we did Maduro. Stuff Carney in an adjoining cell at the MDC in Brooklyn. I’m sure the two could amuse each other, swap satisfying gripes and sob stories.
Really, why stop at just re-naming Lake Ontario. Take the whole darn thing like a pie that has been left on the windowsill too long. The Canadian people would get over it five minutes. Everything is easier in the USA. Running a company, especially. They could keep their poutine and their hockey, learn to have a little fun once in a while. Quebec could become a theme park (what else have they got going there?). No more tariffs to get hung about. Honk if you like the idea.
JHK’s newest novel, a comic romp set during the week of the tragic JFK Assassination, November 1963. Autographed Copies from Battenkill Books.
JHK’s World Made By Hand four-book novel cycle. A small town in the remnant of the USA in the not-distant future. The community struggles to carry on. . . .
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HONK
Awesome column, that was gold, thanks!