The Sandoz Collection - Sandoz Diego Cerveza (the ebook reader .txt) 📗

not real) and Pancho Villa of Mexico. The only non-show-biz Canadian that comes to mind to me is Margaret Trudeau, the former prime ministers wife who spread her Trudeaudian thighs wide to Maggie bang a Rolling Stone while she was still first lady of the realm and hubby Pierre was still drinking Perrier prior to parliamentary procedure and being cuckolded Canuck style.

Why Canadian? or Why Canadien? One half of my family is French Canadien, until the 1800's when they copulated cross culturally with the bloody bulldog redcoat Brit side of the Commonwealth coin and created a new species of bi-lingual Canadian...half English, half French, but all Canadian. There is a secession movement, of course amongst the French factions in Quebec or K'beck as it is pronounced (K'eh? Beck) just as there are Basque separatists in Spain. Hell, we had a civil war in this country so not everybody is always happy with the status quo, non?

What about this "eh" thing? It means so many things to so many people, Canadians, but perplexing to the rest of the English speaking world. It also can be used in the official spelling of the country...C-eh-N-eh-D-eh....eh? See what I mean. Eh is also one of those vocabulary anomalies that has multiple linguistic meanings. It could mean when used as it is at the end of sentence..."See what I mean" or "Don't you agree" or "No, that’s wrong." It can also be used as "wow" was in the Sixties a stand alone. It's a very similar word to "fugettaboutit" used by American Mafioso types as explained by Johnny Depp in the film "Donnie Brasco." He explains that it means..."I agree" or "Man that Caddy is a fine machine" or "Do I look worried." So if you run into a Canadian Mafioso, literally, excuse yourself politely and they will turn and look at you and say, "fuggetabout, eh."

Don't forget "oot" and "aboot". Growing up in Detroit (Day'twa for the uninitiated) I did pick up the accent and when I moved to California to do morning rock and roll radio, I was accused of being from Canada. Accused maybe to strong of a word, but the perception was that I was Canadian, which is not a bad thing by any stretch of anyone’s imagination. I was just surprised that the accent stuck out, not embarrassed, but surprised, pleasantly in retrospect.

Canadians, like their counterparts without sweaters south of the Rio Grande, also flock to America in numbers. No, not numbers as large as the Mexicans who make a mad dash into the tidal pool of tired, hungry, and poor wretched refuse. No exact Canadian numbers can be calculated but the estimated lower numbers is based on the fact that if you go down the food aisle of WalMart not one of them is labeled "Canadian Food", nor is it packed with pregnant Canadians with one in the oven and five in tow.

Which brings up another aspect. Canadian cuisine. Usually in a conversation when deciding where to dine during the evening it's usually discussed and decided by choosing a Chinese restaurant, or for the Yuppie wannabe, "Let's do Thai" or "Have you tried that new French restaurant?" Search your soul and be absolutely honest with us and yourself...how many times have you ever suggested to another..."Lets try that new Canadian restaurant that opened last week. I hear the waitresses wear plaid skirts and Elmer Fudd hunting hats and the cook carries a shotgun at all times." Well...have you, eh?

In Detroit though we did have Canadian radio and Canadian TV, yes, there is such a thing. Ask any old time Detroiter about CKLW or CJOM radio and they'll wax nostalgic about rock n' roll, Ron Legg and Ted the Bear Richards for hours. Not to mention cartoons on the telly with Capt. Jolly and Poopdeck Paul.

More Americans have probably crossed north of the border into the benevolent bosom of the commonwealth, seeking escape from the draft during the Sixties and the vacuum of Vietnam. Whole communities since have sprung up there, with these exiles still expat'd and who have since mingled, intermarried and intercoursed with the fine stock and supply of Canadian women to propagate babies with questionable American genes.

Why Canada? Myths and mythters. Big Foot sightings plague the American Northwest of Oregon and Washington where paranoia is a national past time anyway. Too much time in the woods alone on unemployment is the causation of this fixation. Notice how many people have seen Big Foot when looking for it, but no one ever thought to bring a camera along or gun. Ok, there is one bad old hoax film from the Sixties that exists, but, remember we were living in the days of Holy Hallucination as it was.

Both Washington and Oregon have a real hard on for reality it seems. Reality is castrated for all intents and purposes known only to them, and both states exist in a state of mind of their own creation. Big Foot, was not conceived in the far out furry forests of Washington. He is Sasquatch, conceived as an imaginative Canadian creature created to fill the Gap of Mythology. Indians north of the border no doubt came up with the vision first after smoking a few bowls. Canadians also gave us the plaid and proud, ravager of forests big and small, a man named Bunyan, first name Paul.


French Canadien is the rumour,too as I understand it. Bunch of lumber jack types sitting around the fire dreaming up this Hulk Hogan of loggers, and even gave him a blue ox named Babe to cavort with, however one would cavort with a blue ox. Michigan has numerous Paul and Babe statues along the tourist routes. One, on US 23 south of Alpena on Lake Huron, is a big blue ox that had it's concrete balls shot off by local drunks at a VFW years back, proving that Babe must have been a guy ox. The Babe still stands proud, even though the balls have never been replaced. You can pull into the small parking lot to take photos too, so if you ever pass this monument to the axmen, pull into the parking lot, grab a camera and go stand under Babe...look up between it's hind legs and you'll have proof to show others. Some blue job, eh?

Why Canada? When you hear the American National Anthem you picture someone standing in the Oval Office pretending to be the most powerful person on the planet. Hear the strains of the Marseilles and you think of the French underground standing up to Nazi occupation and Ingrid Bergman kissing Bogie in Casablanca. Hear the first strains of the Canadian anthem, Oh Canada..and badda bing, badda boom your either at a hockey game in Ottawa or a curling match in Windsor.

Why Canada? Why not Canada. As a neighbor they are a formidable foe...for example, we duked it out twice with them, once in 1775 and again in 1812. Both times they beat us back and kicked our ass at one point occupying Fort Detroit. Today, Fort Wayne still stands on the shores of the Detroit River on the Detroit side, ready, just in case those pesky rum runners decide to run more whiskey across the river as they did during prohibition with the help of the Purple Gang, or Capone’s Navy as they were called.

The biggest warning Detroit has to thwart any thought or attempt at an attack from Windsor on our non-socialist democracatic shores was the placement of a mega-ton black, bronze fist of Joe Louis in front of city hall at the corner of Woodward and Jefferson Avenues. The fist is locked and loaded, clenched and the knuckles are appropriately facing Canada as a heavyweight knockout warning against any such attempt to assail the unassailable.


Why Canada? Cannabis of course. Medical marijuana is as common as methamphetamine in Missouri, bad wines in Washington or crack cocaine in the nation’s capital, but without the nasty side effects. Once kick ass grass is legal all around, it won’t take long for Vancouver to replace Amsterdam on the Reefer Richter Scale but don't expect the marijuana leaf to replace the Maple Leaf on the Canadian flag anytime soon.

Canadians are also hysterical over gay marriage, and people’s rights. The Indians or Inuits as they are called are now self governing, as Canada has created a new territory just for that purpose, for the Inuit, by the Inuit and of the Inuit, called Nunavut...Unlike the United States with reservations designed to confine. The American reservations systems were carefully plotted and laid out across the country for the sole purpose of having a geographically distributed and strategically placed locations for casinos. Although the Native American hates with a pent up passion is Andrew Jackson, although they will willingly accept all the $20 bills you can through at them. So how is the reservation system of America viewed in Canada? The Inuit are having nonuvit.

Why Canada? Again, why not Canada. If ever a land be called in honesty, the land of the free, it's the marvelous Maple Leafers who should get the reward. Besides they have the coldest beer and the warmest beaver on the planet...so grab a Molson and go fuck a Canuck. <p>

The Royal Typewriter
The curio known as the modern day computer keyboard is a sassy little sissy. It's a prissy plastic keypad made of cheap modern materials, not classy modern materials, or moderne either. It is no where in close architectural proximity to the look of sleek highly polished 1930's aluminum and steel and iron that make up the composition of the skyscraper masterpiece, the Chrysler Building, or even radios and watches and chairs made of artful deco Bakelite products found around the home and office that come in multi hues and uses that are multi too.

The keys have a click and not a clack. In fact, it is all click without the clack, without the steroids...the keyboard of the computer is merely tiny electrical circuits opening and closing as silently as a serial killer stalks its prey. A 90 pound underfed weakling on the literary beach, delete buttons, always at the ready, the new White Out of the digital generation...don't have to wait for "delete" to dry, no fumes to try to get you high. The scroll button...opens the Gates of Pixel, as words flow downward, southward, sinking below the horizon of the computer screen into a purgatory of words waiting, pleading piously to be released as visible and viable parts of the whole of the paragraph.

The kingdom of the keyboard creates a sense of key-boredom akin to the keyless entry of a motel room. One swipe down and the green light comes on. The entire system is wired for wireless if such a wiring can be done or is even the correct terminology to use when discussing these units. These Computers. Wireless plasticity, means throw away disposability. Name your landfill, name your garbage dump...give us your poor electronic refuse..and we will not refuse it, but recycle it so we can re-use it.

It is a function of the times...but retro returns riding tall in the saddle in the oddest places. The bottom shelf of a Goodwill Store. The store where they have faded old field jackets and Aloha shirts on the rack, and old soggy stuffed animals in a bin that kids have drooled on. In the back, an eclectic assortment of electronics in an electroid graveyard. Lamps without shades, shades without lamps, RCA plugs and discordant lost cords, turntables without needles, old toasters, old Singer Sewing Machines, walkie talkies, waffle makers, VCR machines, DVD machines, CD machines, and other machines with similar designations.

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