There's not much to be proud of these days at the Federal level, or maybe at any level, for that matter. I've been keeping a low profile ever since the Reich got its second term. All orders have to be sent by runner, or pigeon, on self-destructing paper with a timed charge for insurance. The sudden death of a few hundred thousand people came just in time for Christmas. I had eaten myself asleep, and when I awoke that piece of news hit me like insulin shock. I still don't really understand the Tsunami - it's above the question "why?". These last weeks have been such a funk that I didn't even wince when the NHL players declared that they were a bunch of greedy pigs on skates. Bad news sweeps in like the next blizzard, and the whole place is so salty and dried out that there's no energy left to fight. It's hard to suppress apocalyptic thoughts when faced with these sorts of things. Match that with the human filth that surrounds us at all times - people that go to Starbucks and order a 'grande latte with a flavour shot', that arrogant shithead that was driving 110 kph in the fast lane today, the deranged architect who modeled the building I work in after the Death Star, and Ho Lee Chow for making food that instantly decomposes into putrid scum, and then including a fortune cookie that says 'you deserved it, you pathetic sack of broken, useless, unmotivated shit'. Man, these lousy bastards can get you down, even before you read about the next invasion or the secret incarceration of thousands.

So with the backdrop of excrement spiraling in a prison toilet bowl, it came as a bit of a boost to hear that Martin told the US to go fuck off. Swearing usually perks me up, but the idea was also invigorating. Do we want to help you build an international missile launching network? Not really. In fact, not AT ALL, YOU SWARM OF ANTS! Thinking back to our short, rural, immigrant history, I am reminded of another missile deal that went the other way. I think it was John 'The Chief' Diefenbaker, who followed the US order to scrap the highly advanced (for the late 1950s) Canadian jetfighter, the Avro Arrow and buy up a bunch of US BOMARC missiles. It was a controversial issue, and at the time, the Americans were not as blatantly militant; they had only dropped two nuclear bombs, burned most of Japan to the ground during WW2, and killed millions of Chinese and Koreans in a zero-sum war on the Korean peninsula, among many other lowlights. Prior to 1960 the US hadn't mustered the anger to napalm Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, Iraq, parts of Central America, Africa, Yugoslavia, and everywhere else I forget or don't know about. Clearly, since The Chief's time, the US has revealed the bloody fangs of a werewolf, except that it doesn't need consent from the moon (or anyone else) to napalm people. The US operates day and night killing, capturing, incarcerating, torturing, and expanding its power.

Well fuck that. We may not have to power to stop it, but we're sure as hell not going to be part of it. The Crutch managed to avoid being press-ganged into the latest invasion, and Martin followed suit. Not that we can stop them from firing nukes over our heads - we probably won't even be able to detect them until one misfires "accidentally" and melts Medicine Hat into a glassy plain. If only we had the Arrow.....we still wouldn't be able to do a damned thing about this.

But we CAN have attitude. So, to all the pompous warmongers down there, when a Canadian says "Excuse me, I'd rather you didn't do that - thanks", s/he means something along the lines of "Listen you aggressive prick, take me one step further and I'm going to sneak into your bedroom tonight, cut off that pathetic little organ, fry it up into a hotdog, load it with relish, and sell it to your sister at tomorrow's bake sale". To all of you who feel disheartened, broken, or, slated for imminent execution - keep fighting goddamnit. Leave a nostril open for thin farts of hope; ideological independence can be won.