CANADA – FROM EH TO ZED

What Canada Is

Canada Infographic

It’s Canada Day. I thought I might humorously show what Canada is to those of us above the 49th.

An example of our acceptance of proximity to wildlife;
I just got a wrong-number text from someone saying, “Hey, can we use your pool? There’s a moose in ours.”

Doughnut: A small fried cake of sweetened dough, used to lure people into unnecessary meetings.

More than half of Canadians over 25 have some post-secondary schooling. In light of our love of learning, here are some smarty-pants zingers.
Is it solipsistic in here, or is it just me?
What do you get when you cross a joke with a rhetorical question?
A photon checks into a hotel, and the bellhop asks him if he has any luggage.  The photon replies, “No, I’m travelling light.

Possible Canadian movie titles;
The Never-Ending Sorry
Gone With The Wind Chill
The Full Mountie

Canadian Flag

We’re noted for our kindly manners. Just look at this testimonial. An American I know, said that his brother lost his wallet in Canada on a trip, and someone shipped it back to him along with souvenirs.

Hockey rivalries between NHL teams are serious business.

Q: How many Edmonton Oilers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A:  None!  They just sit around in the dark and talk about how good it used to be.

A teacher asks her students what their dads do for a living. She gets the usual answers: firefighter, businessman, police officer.  When it’s Billy’s turn, he says, “My Father’s a criminal who robs banks.”  Shocked, she takes Billy out into the hall.  “My goodness,” she says, “I had no idea about your dad.”

“Well,” Billy replies, “My father actually plays for the Montreal Canadiens, but I was too embarrassed to admit that in front of everybody.”

We’re not above making fun of our neighbours south of the border.

Q: How can you tell the difference between Americans and Canadians?
A:  Canadians not only have a sense of humour, but they know how to spell it.

The Canadian dollar is so bad that, when a clerk accidently gives me an American nickel in change, I turn around and mutter, Suckerrr to myself.

Even the police get into it. A Regina Police report included the statement, “I always wonder how many of the incidents we investigate started with someone yelling YOLO.”

Canadians aren’t as friendly as they may appear. They stab trees, and feast on their blood.

I used to be in a band called Missing Cat. You probably saw our posters.
I dedicate this blog to my father, who was a roofer.  So Dad, if you’re up there….
Recently in court, I was found guilty of being egotistical.  Rest assured, I am appealing.

Sometimes Canadians aren’t so peaceful. If everyone in my life would just read the transcripts of my impassioned shower monologues, we wouldn’t have these communications issues.

It doesn’t matter what country you’re from, everybody makes mistakes.
What idiot called it a dad-bod, instead of a father figure?
What idiot said that their foot was asleep, not that they had coma-toes?
What idiot called them coffee-shop renovations, instead of Java updates?

STATISTICS

Every single Canadian is separated by 6 degrees
Shania Twain has worn 16 acres of denim in her lifetime
Thanks to larger hockey nets, Wayne Gretzky now says that you only miss 95% of the shots you don’t take.

*Me, petting my cat*
Cat: “This is as happy as I’ll ever be!”
*A door opens*
Cat: ”Now is my chance to flee this prison and never return.”

We’re true, North, and strong, but not free of bad habits. When I die, my ghost will probably haunt a fridge.

A nurse beckoned to one of the expectant fathers at the local hospital, and announced, “You’ve got a new son.” Immediately, another man rushed over and began to complain.  “Hey, what’s the idea?  I was here before he was.”

A mailman whose right pant leg was in tatters, limped into the Post Office. “What happened to you?” asked the Postmaster. “I was on my route when a big dog rushed out and bit me on the ankle.” the mailman explained. “Did you put anything on it?” asked the Postmaster. “No,” said the victim, “he liked it plain.”

Canadians love a good case of quick thinking. A game-warden is walking along an East-coast beach, when he spots a guy with a bucket of lobsters.  The officer walks over, flashes his badge and says, “You’re in big trouble boyo.  Poachin’ lobsters is a serious offence.” The man answers, “You’ve got it all wrong.  These lobsters are my pets.  Every morning I let them swim around in the ocean for a few minutes, and then I whistle them back in.”

Skeptically, the warden says, “Okay then, prove it.” The man proceeds to throw the lobsters into the ocean, and both he and the warden stand waiting.  After a couple of minutes, the officer looks at the man and says, “That’s enough time, now whistle your lobsters back in.” The fellow turns to the warden and says, “Lobsters?  What lobsters?”   😆

Canada Kicks Ass

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Real Canadian Whine – Eh?

Canadian Flag

Some time after the recent election of the drama-queen-student-instructor, Justin Trudeau, as Prime Minister of Canada – The Next Generation, I received the following letter.

 

Dear Friend:

We have the honor of being on a Committee to raise five million ($5,000,000) for a statue of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, to be placed in the Canadian Hall of Fame in Ottawa, Ontario.

The Committee has been in a quandary as to where to place the statue. It was felt unwise to place it beside the statue of Sir Wilfrid Laurier, who never told a lie, nor too close to that of Sir John A. MacDonald, who never told the truth.  Trudeau can never tell the difference.

We have finally decided to place it beside the statue of Christopher Columbus, the greatest leader of them all. He left not knowing where he was going, and, upon arriving, did not know where he was. When he returned home, he had no idea where he had been.  And he did it all on borrowed money.

It is reported that Prime Minister Trudeau is considering a change in the Liberal Party’s emblem, from a Maple Leaf, to a Condom. The Condom stands for inflation, halts productivity, protects a bunch of pricks, and gives a false sense of security while one is being screwed.

If you are one of those fortunate few who has any money left after paying your grocery and gasoline bills, we will expect a generous donation as your contribution to this worthwhile project.

 

Yours very truly,

 

Chairman, STATUE COMMITTEE

Condom

To All My American Readers;

Don’t despair. I’ll get around to insulting your leader soon enough.  😛

Fully Insured

The following are actual statements found on insurance forms, where car drivers attempted to summarize the details of an accident in the fewest words possible.  These instances of faulty writing serve to confirm that even incompetent writing may be highly entertaining.

Coming home, I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I don’t have.

The other car collided with mine without giving warning of its intentions.

I thought my window was down, but I found out it was up when I put my head through it.

I collided with a stationary truck coming the other way.

A truck backed through my windshield into my wife’s face.

A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.

The guy was all over the road.  I had to swerve a number of times before I hit him.

I pulled away from the side of the road, glanced at my mother-in-law and headed over the embankment.

In my attempt to kill a fly, I drove into a telephone pole.

I had been shopping for plants all day and was on my way home.  As I reached an intersection, a hedge sprang up, obscuring my vision and I did not see the other car.

I had been driving for 40 years when I fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident.

The telephone pole was approaching.  I was attempting to swerve out of its way when it struck the front end.

I was on my way to the doctor with rear end trouble when my universal joint gave way causing me to have an accident.

As I approached the intersection, a sign suddenly approached in a place where no stop sign ever appeared before.  I was unable to stop in time to avoid the accident.

To avoid hitting the bumper on the car in front, I struck the pedestrian.

My car was legally parked as it backed into the other vehicle.

An invisible car came out of nowhere, struck my car and vanished.

I told the police that I was not injured, but on removing my hat, found that I had a fractured skull.

I was sure that the old fellow would never make it to the other side of the road when I struck him.

The pedestrian had no idea which direction to run, so I ran over him.

I saw a slow moving, sad faced old gentleman as he bounced off the roof of my car.

The indirect cause of the accident was a little guy in a small car with a big mouth.

I was thrown from my car as it left the road.  I was later found in a ditch by some stray cows.

***

Condom

 

 

 

 

 

Consistent with the Bi-Cultural Policy, the Canadian Government is now considering changing the National Emblem from the Maple Leaf, to the condom.  The reasons are that the condom withstands inflation, slows down production, protects a bunch of pricks, and gives a false sense of security while one is being screwed.   🙄

Act Sharp. Get To The Point!

The wife and I have been going to Knife shows to view hand-made, custom, and Art Knives for about 22 years.  The first one we became aware of, that we could afford the time and money to attend, was in Detroit.  The trip to that show was a real adventure, perhaps the basis for a future post.  Detroit is about a four hour drive.

Soon after, we found that there were knife shows in Toronto, only an hour away.  Actually, back then, there were three shows a year, hosted by the Canadian Knife Collectors Association.  Shows organized by collectors, embarrassing!  Soon the Canadian makers organized themselves into a guild and took over the shows.  They’re down to two shows now, with talk of dropping the fall one.

Makers came in from the Yukon, B.C., the prairies, Quebec, the Maritimes, and the northern U.S.  Then, 9/11 happened.  Overnight, makers were not allowed to carry knives onto airplanes.  A maker flying from Hawaii to L.A. lost $30,000 worth of knifes from cargo.  Soon shows shrank, because they were limited to makers who lived close enough to drive.  The Detroit show went from 200 exhibitors, to 50.  The Toronto show has gone from 50, to about 20.  Still, we go!

This year there were four makers from Montreal and area, a 7 hour drive.  Their French business cards list them as joalliers – jewelers.  Their knives were elegant, gem-adorned, gold-inlaid pieces of art.

The most recent Toronto show was held March 9 and 10.  With the wife’s deteriorating mobility and increased breathing problems, she often stays at home.  Bright and early Saturday morning, (It was early, but I was none too bright, with three hours sleep.  The son had been up since 6 PM Fri.) I took the son, the grandson and his fiancée, and we went to Toronto.

I got to socialize with makers I’ve known for years.  We discussed those who have passed on, or had to leave the business, and some of the new, up-and-comers who are taking their places.  We all looked at knifes and swords, and supplies, and non-knife stuff that cutlers (A name, meaning knife-maker.) make.

The five-dollar work-knife the grandson bought last October has been extensively used, causing wear to the lock, which creates a safety hazard.  He paid $60 to buy a much more reliable replacement, prettier too!  The son also paid $60 to get a different-style lock-back, to replace the twenty-some year old Swiss Army Knife he carries.

Last year, and the year before, he paid $300 for art-engraved, solid titanium hook-type belt-buckles, which he displays with his utility/fighter knife, and the Katana sword he won last year.  The door prize this year was a pattern-welded Damascus-steel knife with a strip of Canadian Maple-Leaf flags down its blade.

One maker had a matching brother/sister pair of knives.  A gentle S-shape, the blade down, and the carved coca bola-wood handle up, with a matching carved wooden sheath.  The his-knife a little larger, but each at $300.  The grandson and the fiancée each wanted to buy one.  She had cash in her wallet, but the work-knife purchase had left him short.  He went up to the ATM in the lobby, but it was out of order.  The desk-clerk sent him to the building across the street, where he got cash at another ATM.  Just as he re-entered the room, another guy picked up “his” knife, and bought it for a friend.

The grandson learned to “reserve” a knife, even put a deposit on it.  Fortunately, the maker is a relatively new displayer, and lives here in Kitchener.  It would take about a year to work it into his schedule, and it wouldn’t be exactly the same, but if the grandson asks, he’ll make another, to complete the pair.

The son bought a shooting star, literally.  One of our friend/makers had a small billet of steel made from a piece of meteorite.  Only able to get a couple of knives from the piece, he cut and polished a few shapes from the scrap, including a thumbnail-sized, star-shaped pendant, on a rawhide thong.  He paid $60 for that also.  A piece of a star doesn’t come cheap.  He also looked at a beautiful titanium art-knife folder, engraved with skulls and crosses, like one of the buckles he bought from the same maker.  Boy, I wish I lived at home with my parents, and could afford pretty stuff.  Well, it does all live at my house, so I can gaze and fondle it.

After the show, we went down the street to a sub shop for lunch.  On a busy street, by the airport, there is no sidewalk, just a paved shoulder up to a tiny parking lot.  While we sat there, a black Lincoln stretch-limo pulled up and stopped.  Five minutes later, a black Cadillac pulled in behind.  A questionable-looking driver got out and walked up, carrying a briefcase.  The rear window rolled down, the briefcase was handed in, a different briefcase was passed out, and they rolled away in opposite directions.  Another “What The Hell Did I Just See?”  That wasn’t a drug, or weapons, or industrial espionage deal??!  Nah, the driver just took his wife’s briefcase this morning, with the wrong lunch.  Yeah, that’s it.

I finally nudged the son into applying for his passport.  The wife cut his hair and trimmed his beard.  Now he only looks like the second-in-command to an Arab terrorist.  He got the requisite photos taken, had his Mom fill in the last of the application form, and I drove him down to the passport office on Thursday.  I’ve been there before, and know where to park.

The clerk told him that they were scheduling to mail out passports, applied for that day, on March 21.  There’s the spring knife show in Detroit, coming up on April 26/27.  Unless the bureaucracy really fouls things up, he’s taking the Friday off work, and the two of us will go.  If something does get screwed up, the wife says she’ll be happy to go again.

Even if nobody gets propositioned this time, there should be enough of interest for another post.  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.