Pick up and go north. For decades, that has been the mantra of slaves who lived in the South, of migrants coming from the other Americas, of Vietnam draft dodgers, Bush-era peaceniks and Obama’s disenchanted e-masses. And where do they go without dying of cold or boredom? Canada.
Is it ludicrous to fantasize about saying, “Shit’s hitting the ceiling fan down here, I’m moving to Canada”? Not at all, because Canada has many things that the United States does not.
The Great White North has Boreal forests, for one; a serious seccessionist movement in Quebec; the CBC; bilingualism; First Peoples and not Native Americans; the Old Pornographers, because the new ones are passé; oil sands; poutine (french fries, cheese curds and gravy); and a fast-growing polar bear population.
But what else might one ask for in Canada? In an attempt to avoid the two-party political dinosaur we have here, some disillusioned Americans go north in search of parliamentary debate, multi-party coalitions and more aggressive archaelogists.
The Economist magazine named Canada the most democratic country in the Americas in 2006, after all. Put that greasy bone meal in your gab and choke, Uncle Samson.
What would it take to drop the moniker “Yankee” — or for those still bitter about the Civil War, “American” — and proudly become a Canadian? Some people say a Studebaker and a disguise, others a flask of Crown Royal and an Amtrak pass.
One Puget Sound student said that his parents, upon emigrating from Mexico, were shooting for Canada.
“They had a northward trajectory, but they got stuck in California instead. We still hope,” he said.
The most recent climatological reports state that global warning has not yet reached the Canadian borders. I tell you now: it is still cold as hell. And governmental austerity measures currently dissuade people from going south to gamble away the Canadian dollar now that the exchange rate is so damn good— C$.99:$1.00.
In their song “Moving to Canada,” the Seattle band Cloud Cult says, “And as the ending came, the people watched complacently and swore their god had meant for it to be this way.” So with 2012 on the horizon, environmental crises dropping like the moon across the sun and the decadence we carry around in our heads most days inflating like a run-away weather balloon, Canada’s tourist board is revving up its propaganda motors.
Via shortwave ham radio and in between Champion’s League soccer broadcasts on the CBC, it has begun promoting Tim Hortons instant coffee in place of our dearly beloved Folgers. So get excited, stop shooting and fumigating the geese down here and go see them in their native habitat, unmolested by riflers and the Orkin man.
I am petitioning the ASUPS Wee Hours service to charter a van every Saturday night for a 19 run up to Vancouver B.C., happy hour departure time 12 o’clock. Afterwards, there will be a stop at the V. B.C. historical society for cultural orientation.
As I learned in an Aug. 2010 article in the Wall Street Journal, a capitalist’s opportunities are endless in the Land of Smaller Government. So rush to the banks, empty your account, and pawn off your USA #1 pointer hand. Canada’s calling.
[PHOTO SERVICES/DAVID PENDELTON]
