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I didn’t write this letter in response to a recent article in the National Review blog, but I wish that I had. Because, like the author, I went to the same sort of painfully liberal Canadian University, and I too have endured the embarrassment of Canada’s Swissesque high-and-mighty judgmental lack of support for the United States throughout the last 4 years. Nope, I didn’t write it, but I should have. I can still share:

“I just read your Corner post regarding Canada’s inferiority complex when it comes to all things American. I am a Canadian myself, and I just want to say that I certainly don’t blame you for thinking this way – it’s all too true of most of my countrymen, and I imagine it will only get worse as Canada’s Europeanization continues apace, and the differences between our two nations becomes more stark.

However, not all of us are so blind. I belong to a small group of Canadians who believe that we are amazingly fortunate to be neighbors with a great nation like the US, and who understand the burden that the US has shouldered in fighting the war on terror. I know that you are fighting primarily to protect your own country – as you should – but the West will benefit from the inevitable victory to come, and there are some folks up here in the Great White North who understand this, and are deeply humbled by it. Your soldiers are dying on foreign soil, and we are all benefiting, and for that we are profoundly grateful. It pains me greatly that we have stood to the sidelines and done nothing but carp while this is going on. America deserves better neighbors and better allies than we have been to you over the past three years, and for that I am truly sorry.

I just though I’d let you know that we Canadians are not all bland collegiate drones in thrall to the gods of the Left. Actually, I went to a liberal arts university north of Toronto, and so I had no problem picturing the two losers whose company you suffered through on your train trip – I was surrounded by them for five years.

Hopefully, things will change. One thing that reading NRO (and Mark Steyn, and James Lileks, and Glenn Reynolds et al) has done for me, is open my eyes and energized me to promote change in the world around me. In the last two years, I’ve joined the Conservative Party, canvassed during the election, planted campaign signs, answered phones, and eschewed my normal Canadian restraint and started arguing with anyone who will listen (which means my boomer-in-laws, and my parents, who think I’m suffering through some sort of mental episode). I sat at my PC on US election night, and sweated bullets (while perusing NRO and waiting for the results), and was thrilled beyond words when President Bush was returned to office. I can’t help you fight the war, or vote for President Bush, but I can’t make a difference in my own country, and I intend to do just that.

And so, in closing, this Canadian would like to say: God Bless America, and thanks. And don’t count us Canadians out quite yet. There is a well of common sense, and a spirit of resilience up here that simply needs to be tapped.”

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the author was a classmate of mine at Guelph. It all rings just a little too familiar – daily protests outside my all-male penis-party dorm, vegetarian dishes taking up half of the cafeteria menu, my beloved Bullring being switched to a patchouli and clove cigarette doused coffee house – but at least this person is home, and attempting to help our collective conscience. I’m a million miles away, cringing everytime some ignorant Canadian politician or journalist opens their moonbat mouth. But I wouldn’t be living in Boston if I didn’t love and support the USA, so I suppose in the end that’s activism enough.

Still, like a proud parent whose child has just farted onstage during the last act of the school play, I love Canada unconditionally. But am still beyond embarrassed.

Appetizer: How much money do you plan to spend this holiday season?

I have gifts for a few of my little cousins that I forgot to take with me to Toronto last year. I’m hoping they’ll still be into them, and I can pass them off without having to buy new ones. Although when I was a runt, my parents were lucky if toys held my attention for more than a few days. SeaMonkeys and Star Wars being the obvious exceptions. Some things keep you unhealthily fascinated longer than others. Now won’t you please excuse me for a moment while I go feed ‘Jaws’ and ‘ Orca’ – and then dust my Yoda puppet.

Soup: What was the last television show you watched, and was it good?

There’s an English show I love called Little Britain. It just finished its second season on BBC, and I’ve downloaded and watched all the episodes from a great site called UKNova. It’s a sketch comedy show featuring many recurring characters and is absolutely beyond funny. I’ve also become hooked on the Most Haunted, which I made the mistake of watching alone this morning at 3 a.m. – if you don’t count the Thai prostitute. But she was only still here because she was dead.

Salad: If you had to paint your living room, what color would you choose?

Someone dumped a glass of red wine all down the wall of my apartment’s spiral stairwell while I was away in Concord. So this whimsical question is a reality at the moment. Unlike the Thai hooker. She was Malaysian.

Main Course: Name something clever you have thought of inventing.

The lukewarm reception of my last invention has discouraged me for the time being. Apparently gloryholes are frowned upon in government buildings. Who knew?

Dessert: List 3 things you would like to receive as gifts this holiday season.

You’re very thoughtful, quizzlet. I didn’t realize we’d been familiar long enough to actually exchange gifts. You need only look at my Amazon wish list. Or certain boutiques in Chinatown.

The Moonbat ain’t so virtual anymore. I wrote about this horrible and embarassing Canadian Liberal MP cunt’s antics back in August. Now Paul Martin has sacked Carolyn Parrish from the caucus for stomping on a George W. Bush action figure on national television. This got into the Drudge Report down here in the states, and has been an enormous ostrich egg in the face for the Prime Minister – and ME. Yet another nationally publicized anti-American instance I’ll have to begrudgingly explain to my Yankee friends.

What Matt Drudge won’t tell you is that the TV show in question, This Hour Has 22 Minutes, pre-dates the identical Daily Show and is actually really, really funny. It’s a timely satirical comedy show that’s been shown on CBC since 1990. Parrish overstepped her bounds as an elected official in doing what she did, but Drudge should have mentioned the context. It was a ‘bit’. A foolish and feciscious ‘bit’ which has had significant concequences – but a ‘bit’ none the less. One more time for the cheap seats: ‘bit’.

So, basically this is me demonstrating my oft-mentioned attempts at objectivity when taking in the news on a daily basis. But that handicapped-whore still needs a spork vivisection. Maybe she can get a job on Mike Moore’s next picture.

I am posting this wonderful little piece of technology because it’s extremely well done and funny. It also reminds me of talking to some of my more ‘educated’ friends. Whenever I miss my frostback bretheren, or feel a need to have a conversation with an absent Monster, I can now turn to the Moonbat and it’s like they are right there in the room with me.

Here’s how he works. Pretend you’re having a conversation with your favorite Moore-educated, politically open-minded Kerry mourner, and ask him a question. Imagine that you’re in Starbucks chatting over a chai lattes about who you both voted for. Here’s an example you can use: You’re not going to like this, but I voted for Bush because I believe the security of our citizens comes first – regardless of popular international opinion. Feel free to copy and paste.

If you’re a hyper-sensitive intellectual who’s about to leave me a comment regarding how easy it would be to create a conservative/republican version of the Moonbat – or the ‘Virtual Voice Of Reason’ as I’d probably call it – save your breath. Because you’re correct. Now stop whining and design one of your own if you can stop watching The Daily Show long enough. Is anyone listening to me? Shit – what a waste of my time. They’ve all moved to Canada already.

I Hope You Die In A Hotel Fire.

And to think I used to deliver this rag as a child. My paper route of shame.

Can you actually write about writer’s block? I’m going to try and find out. Thankfully this doesn’t happen to me very often, as I’m a vertible fricking font of useless information and startling nerdiness. But the last three days have been Sahara-dry in terms of material. For example, here’s a fascinating tidbit to keep you rapt: I’m going upstairs to make tea.

OK – I’m back. Here’s another thing I need to get off my chest: My cat likes to jump onto my desk and stare mournfully at me while I’m typing. Like he maybe thinks I’m writing to the South End animal shelter and pleading with them to come and take his annoying orange ass away. Speaking of the South End, did you notice that I just a) mentioned that I have a cat and b) am drinking tea? I imagine there’s probably a line of sailors forming outside my apartment right now just waiting to slap their cocks off my forehead.

I’m going to fold laundry now. Oh – and there goes the doorbell. I hate being right all the time.