Friday, July 18, 2008

Meet Me in Miami

It's 1:20am Thursday morning, and the lovely Miss Claire and I are preparing to jump in the car to take a 5:00am flight out of Halifax with a stop over in Newark, then off to Miami - the Fairmont Turnberry Isle Resort and Club in Miami to be exact. Those of you who are regular readers know I am not a heat person, so while I am thrilled, I am not exactly looking forward to the oppressive molten lava heat of Florida. I can't wait to go to a little spot called "La Hacienda" for Cuban sandwiches with black beans and yellow rice. Apart from that, the trip will comprise of the compulsory pilgrimage to West Palm Beach where I can horrify the locals with my impressive Canadian body mass index, brought about by countless weekends sitting on my ass and stuffing dill pickle chips down my gullet. My family crest has a picture of a remote control on it - we are more familiar with the words nap and fried shrimp than we are with words like jog and move it will ya?

Anyway, in regards to the last post.

Do you feel a little dirty? Like you've been used? Like the time uncle Larry sat you on his lap at Christmas time and, through his gin soaked breath, told you the joke about how milk and cookies aren't the only things that Santa chews on when he comes down the chimney? You didn't quite get the joke, but you that felt something very wrong had just transpired. When you went to bed you made sure you locked the door - a habit you still fastidiously re-enact to this day. Well, you should feel a little dirty, because I did use you. My last blog post, though every word was heartfelt, was meant to be inflammatory. I could have called it "the problem with Canada", or as my fellow blogger and former economic editor is fond of saying, "Cuba North", but I purposely named the article "I Don't Want to be Canadian Anymore", thinking that my knee jerk liberal-minded countrymen would fly into a unified spasmatic fit of sputtering outrage, staging a protest outside my super fly downtown apartment after they had politely asked for a permit from the proper municipal authorities - instead I got silence.

Well, not exactly silence. Not the type of silence you get from your wife when she finds out you came home so drunk you wrote your name in piss on the new white shag carpeting. Not that of silence. Instead, I got agreement (which to me is a political type of pseudo-silence). I would casually bring up the article in conversation and instead getting of Jap-slapped, I got suggestions of other things I should have added to the list....and these people aren't exactly card carrying members of the vast right wing conspiracy. Most of them are liberal with some libertarian leanings who feel that our judiciary and busy body bureaucrats are overstepping their grounds. I was rather relieved there are more people out there who seem to realize that the jack-booted thought police are running amuck on freight train heading toward a personal opinion near you.

Sorry I have to cut this short, but we really have to get going. See you on the way back, and please be patient - the Obama piece is coming.

Have a good weekend. In case I didn't mention it...we'll be in Miami...suckers.



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