lame canada,

in any properly conducted hypothetical test, there's a control group to who(m [is the "m" supposed to be there, katelyn, or do i use "which?"]) no meaningful treatments should be applied. in the grand ethnocultural experiment that i call white people, there is canada.

canada is like the advanced students at your junior high. they're not necessarily smarter, but they dress like their parents and they more or less do as they're told.

i'm gonna finish this after "rachel getting married"

^ wow, heavy movie. don't make a date of it unless your bond and jeans are tight enough for surgeon general's warning. really well acted, though, and the director let that bitch breathe admirably considering the artsy potential of the script. beautiful movie, really.

but that came second to me moving this crack, eh? these losers had all of bountiful north america to settle and ended up relevant for their contributions to ice cream nomenclature and a hockey league so embarrassed by their inclusion that it brands itself "national." in short (and i've neither patience nor factual evidence enough to render my argument any other way), canada is boooring. while whites in the united states were importing and subjugating cultural catalysts from africa, china and mexico, their neighbors to the north were just finding themselves perplexed at the absence of human vigor for sale in the printing press version of l.l. bean.

centuries later, their shit remains firmly grounded in the wizzeak. they have landlocked reggeaton and the people look like embarrassing yearbook photos. the deficit in progressive taste is such that gays are distinguishable only for the degree to which they fasten their quarter-zips.

step your game up, sharply. my country saw a dude federally flogged for playing pitbull god while he was guaranteed more money than rudy giuliani's divorce lawyer. your country saw a major scandal when chris tolkien sued your government on the grounds that typical canadian manner and temperament constitute violations of his father's copyright on hobbit lifestyle. my dick? bigger than a bridge. your dick? has probably, at some point, come in contact with mickey avalon's manwomb. ya'll fucking with whom? don't answer that.

i don't know if i have many canadian friends. my cognizance of any such issues is, like discrimination against gays in the military or cash money records, limited by a strict "don't ask, don't tell" policy. it's not like i bleed artistic vitality. i spend a lot of my time around montanans, who at their best are like canadians with modern military technology. whatever. i guess you guys are fine by me.