Once upon our time, Canadians were widely regarded as the luckiest ever, on a small planet, where so many, have so little.
In 'dreamtime' during Wartime, the secret cypher for concentration camps' kitchens, was
Like manna ...'kanada'
(Long before, "Guantanamara" became "Gitmo."
Ever wonder.."What's left, of Omar Khadr?".. Joey!)
Young in years, but mature in our approaches to things.
Weather at home, was tough enough, then Vimy et al., Depression,
Then WAR, (again) Separation, Fear, Loss.
Atlantic Convoys, Hong Kong, Africa, Sicily, Dieppe,
Ortona/ Monte Casino, D-Day, Drive to Berlin.
What was found, and lost, in the Low Countries,
Taught that there was worse afoot, than weather.
So, we have been tried, even good, in the past.
Excepting our (routine) treatment, of All Abos,
"That'll l'arn 'em.. um, ah.. heathen savages!"
+Our,happily, gifted 'Dominion' over all else extant?
"Hi Ho, Hie Ho, get yo' scrawny butt(ox) to work,"
No naps, jus' raps: B# Minors,
"Away, away... to midden + dump
"'Cuz we da Poss ...+U da chump."
"Here we go, "loop-de-lie!"
"Jolly Canucks", work all day, rarely wear garters, our Motto,
"Peace, Order,.. and once, in a
'Bluue Moooon... you saw me standin' alone... without a dream..'
Not too bad, governance."
Je me souviens.
"There's that land, have you seen it?" R.S.
"A Gorgeous, 'Geographie Geant' the World admired,
trusted us, with it." L'Hibou Gris, top chap!
Currently, the "sotto voce" diplomatic skinny, aboot Us? WTF!
Brava Rona! Good work Chuck!
Peter+Condi whee! You GO Steverino!
Why, these Da-pilla-Torys are Red Assed Yankee Manquees
Just like 'Macaca' Georgie Porgie.
On 16 FEB '06:
WE PLEDGED OUR NATION'S HONOUR, and affixed same, to the KYOTO PROTOCOL.
THUS, promulgating a LAW OF THIS LAND, and those few remaining pockets of "INTERNATIONAL LAW" left to us, elsewhere, these days.
So, other than "Wetbacks and the Yellow Peril" what's new, Lou?
"..It is now widely understood that Canada can't(sic)...KYOTO.."
Throne Speech 16 Oct. 07.
"Understood" by Whom? Steve...Oh,
"See? Guess what! it's ah, clearly ah, in-continent, an' 'ats duh troof," says Swagger Gee, "So there,"
('Taint funny, Mcgee, even blind pigs find truffles,' do ya mind the vistas that made us wistful?)
It is Folks.
Sanctimonious Satraps, casting their farts to the wind, remarking on the sweetly, scented breezes.
Why, to say otherwise, might ruffle the REPUBIC rulers, whence all blessings trickle, (tinkle, tinkle) down.
WHEN the OGALALA AQUIFER, SUCKS (DRY) SOON,
THE NEXT, pond upstream, Little Beavers, is
THE GREAT LAKES.
"Screw them !@#$%&* Nobels, and the IJC too."
"NO need tuh dyn-o-mite, jus' OPEN THE DAMN GATE." (Chicago River)
"Jes' soon as those ARMY CORPS(ES) of ENG.S,
"Finish up, (good stuff, boyz!) in NOLA."
(To be Relieved: by elements of Blackwater, [4th DIV. Airborne Attack Rangers.])
STOP: VP-DC RIGHT EYE ONLY OR ROVE'LL SIC RUSH ON YA
"REVISED" NAFTA: SEC 7: PART:8 SUB 5.9
"There shall (NOT, NO, NADA) be any unilateral Interpretuptions, of 'Flow Through' (in-mens-true-gates) in res 'Righteous, Republican, Riparian Rights' under NAFTA."
(Viz. Addington, Hadley, Yoo, Gonzales et al. before Judge Judy, ex parte, at a Fun Razor.)
"Ipso facto, 'cause Gonzo said so,"
(In close harmony children, on the downbeat)
"What transcription errors? So, you say? We have a true copy but you can't see it, 'cause we say so, F.U."
"Let's talk this over?"
"Ah, that's a big NegaTory, kitts, (stari-ng decisis-ly)
"WE say different!"
(Want to run that one through the WTO, Folks?
While U wait, let's get some shakes.)
Right, 'echo-hiking' l'on y dance, l'on y dance,
Walking tours across Thunder Bay,
Au Geant qu'est dormant, mon cher,
Frere Jacques, tous en rond.
"An Awakening, profoundly to be wished." B.H.
In 1972, "The New Romans," (excellent Can-lit anthology)
concluded with the heartfelt desire
NOT to be, routinely and forever,
"Bum-fucked by Bald Eagles."
NOW HERE WE ARE, all prostates, before the EMPIRE,
("See Alice," said the Cat, with a grin.)
As Nixon used to say, "That would be wrong."
How else then, to describe Bush et al. except, as cowardly bullies, with demonstrably anal, torture fetishes, among many other curious quirks.
Ex post factos, with soi disant, neo-con notions,
Of WTF's a'pro'(pos) and whose 'bono' they'll 'play' with today.
Retro-Blythe Control, with tazzzerz+guns+Gitmo,
They decide, who, where, when.
Why, Phat would make, our Stevie:
A coy (alt.) vessel?
A pseudo-Christian wedgie?
Mike........ from Canmore?
Just another 'first class' fuckwit?
"Take it or leave it" is the preamble and postscript of this old receipe, not, for useful direction and redress, but rather, clingin' to the helm,
"It's always, all about me" sayeth the pious "Hogtown Halibut."
(Bottom feeder, with an oddly, "One sided" outlook,
Like a flounder, only rounder.)
As to the bulk of the missive to the masses,
(Notre pauvre, The RT Hon. Ms. Michaelle J. looking, throughout, comme toujours, "whip-smart," et la vraie belle canadienne, behind whose sparkling eyes, (honi mal y pense) les petites memoires of old drums, "Ton Ton Macoutes"..)
Whew, what was that, middle part?..Oh, it's pure, vintage Bushwa.
As budding cardsharps, on "Celebrity Poker?" will 'tell' ya,
"Watch Out When, a self-styled "Doc," brings his own deck, and without warrant, serially, surriptitiously, seriously, sneaks peeks, at Yr. 'Hole' (card)."
There's a Park, on the Lake, at the foot of Brimley Road, in Poor, Old Tranna,
Not Calgary Joey, just a short bike ride,
From Yr. ol' Homestead, in louche, lovely Leaside.
LEAFS Joey! loose the chaps.
Let's see WHO, "WANTS TO WAIT" 'til 2050!
For some "Tr-ACK-SHONE"
The Real Defenders of the True North hear, and rue
"Chimes of Arctic Ice" candling far too late,
Seasonally, in the great Canuck inter-gobble,
Dri_, dri_ dri_.
The "p" is silent, as in treading water.
"So Quit Yr. grinnin' and Drop...THE WRIT,TWIT.
You, Pre-postering, Pussy-lanomouse, Piss-ant Poll-Cat :)
Harpoon, whilst en banc, in House, attempted to cite
Stan Roger's, CBC certified number #1 with a Beaufort, Anthem to Franklin's Arctic questing, and of course, F/B-lubbered it.
We All know how keen he is, about All things Maritime.
"Goddam them all, I was told, we'd cruise the seas for American Gold."
8:5 against his joining in, on the harmony,
He's so squeaky, as nails on chalkboard.
Ah well, back to the "Staggers+Jaggs" me Hearties.
Pass the Port, Barrett,
Bet H. knows M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E,