#it was quebecois francais but still french

[racingtoaredlight]

Under The Cenote - Oh Canada

I am accustomed to metal sinks. Every other surface in the house was indestructible; concrete walls, heavy furniture, pasta tile flooring. Every noun in the rental was a suitable surface to ready bagged ice for margaritas save the plastic kitchen sink. Hindsight arrived when I tricep smashed an ice bag through the plastic kitchen sink. The plastic kitchen sink broke so perfectly the only noise was a ‘Huh’. I broke the plastic kitchen sink eight hours after Martha, the landlord, rescued me from a backyard hangover existence of one towel.  

At a small, socially distanced Yucateco hosted party an ‘expat’ Canadian told me I will appreciate Canada when I am older. Bitch we are both deliberately in Mexico during a deadly, contagious global plague. Face north when you lie. Please fuck off with the Burger King Presents Tim Horton’s quality tautology thesis premised on living which is impossible in Canada therefore could only be realized by not living in Canada.’ 

Growing older in Canada is impossible, how can anyone age if they are already dead, corpses funeral marching to the Hockey Night in Canada theme. Winter only embalms you for more winter and there is no spring thaw as time standstills between bland dinners served over joyless conversation.  Nobody is alive when the Roughriders on third down punt again to the Roughriders.    Canada must average the temperature of Stockholm Syndrome. Pay for a psychiatrist, pay for a psychiatrist because the free medical care does not consider the brain or teeth necessary to health (in fairness I could argue  a canuck’s quality of life would decrease if they could eat and think). Pay for mental health because you are arguing one day I will yearn to return to a Western, Siberian gulag. 

Take all the Best-Country-To-Live-In trophies and shove them in the frozen ass of the nearest, proud Canadian. Shove it in to unmoving eyes that can’t afford prescription glasses so their thrilled parents can brag to their boring friends about co-signing their child into the world’s dumbest mortgage.  Appreciate Canada more? I am the Anti-Canada Ambassador. Everyone gets to hate one country and I collect their answers. A Chilanga, fresh from laughing because I told her CDMX is suspect because they drink Barcadi, explained passionately she hated the French. We have good jobs, she explained, but we still drink Barcardi. From her I learned the Mayans had leprechauns, limericks and she told of the Aztecs adopting their god of love whose name sounded dangerously like Cúchulainn.   Yucatecos might be more Irish but Ireland is more Mexican.  A specific moonlight upon Mayan temples forms a serpent revealing the year she explained in lieu of answering why Mexico City drinks so much goddamn Bacardi White.

An accepted theory states Mayans were bred selectively smaller to be closer to the maiz, I posit they started worshipping the Jaguar after they became snack sized.  For all the teachings I told her about the worst French. Imagine people behaving horribly for the dumbest possible reasons, then imagine they did so snottily in the dumbest version of a language. Do you cringe at Ye Olde Inne signage? The entirety of the Quebecois parlance is Shakespeare English recited idiotically by the most illiterate person in your grade 10 English class en francais.    Fuck Quebec. Imagine Steve Bannon at his most islamophobic with Trudeau’s incoherent moral pretentiousness endlessly hectoring you in the dumbest French possible you must finance their new country. You owe them a new country because centuries ago colonial France lost a colonial war.  Fuck Quebec. Quebecers, idiotic bigots, are presently covid defying their own law which banned “face coverings” meaning hijabs, turbans and burkas. Apparently being religious in anti-French which is curious because the law specifically allows for crucifix wearing.

Fuck Quebec.    Only Canada could misunderstand the purpose of politeness to platform Quebec. A political platform so absurd every beer not in Quebec is bilingual.  And Alberta might be worse.  Appreciate Canada more as I get older? In Merida the 24 hour Canadian hospital on Calle 66 is one stumble away from a hotel that charges 100 pesos for 3 hours. Drunk Canadians abroad feel free to bland-splain away their transgressions because as they are Canadian therefore it wasn’t rude. Just because America is a prison of dying fatties between service jobs doesn’t mean you are the world’s pinnacle.  Imagine a nation so culturally bankrupt they boast multiculturalism as a national character:  1. How? 2. By definition how. 3. Seriously, how does that work.    All countries have Ethiopian restaurants you dullards. If Canada did develop a culture it would just be paternalistic warnings repeated en francais. 

I want to burn this bridge, the bridge to winter people thinking reservedness is the ultimate politeness.  Canada rests on false international prestige, I tell poly sci Mexicans that Canada’s schooling of the indigenous was purposely replicated in apartheid South Africa. I tell Summa Cum Laude DC graduates Trudeau fired the indigenous justice minister because she refused to pardon a corporation the World Bank blacklisted a hundred times over. I tell catina owners the controlled alcohol board refuses to sell at wholesale prices, I buy rum at the same price to Tiki Bar owners. I tell chefs you can’t buy a medium rare hamburger. I tell drinkers within the three months of good weather Toronto still tickets park drinking. I tell economists the province of Ontario lost money on a weed monopoly, which to be clear, was a monopoly selling weed to Canadians  I tell Libertarians about beer sold through a government protected, foreign owned monopoly. I tell liberal voters about Trudeau continuing to arm Saudi Arabia’s genocide of Yemen. The mayor of Toronto, the one after the crackhead, bragged low white collar wages to entice Amazon. On my former block a plaque was erected to explain the historical importance of a building torn down for condos. I tell investors about Warren Buffett, the Prime Minister and the Finance Minister conspiring to save a  fraudulent subprime lender to prevent the world’s biggest housing bubble from bursting. I tell West Virginians about the Irvine family who owns a province. I tell everyone a bill has been written to tax the internet to fund more Nickelback. We need more Canadian culture they argue, Nickelback needs money.  Martha said 70 pesos to fix the sink, she then refused the money. In her AirBnB review of me she said I was polite and reserved. I need to deprogram myself into enjoying life. I need to be more Mexican, I need to laugh from the back of my throat and eat more cochinita pibil, drink more mezcal surrounded by sunbathing geckos serenaded by tropical birds. I need to gossip more. I need to be told again how I mispronounced ‘ten years’ as “ten buttholes” and in the Yucatan that is how you get a nickname. I need to learn to be cold in perfectly warm weather. I need to unlearn Canadianess before learning how to wrest joy from this beautiful accident of life, a life of lottery winnings suddenly realized underneath the mathematical precision of Mayan stars.  At some point I should probably learn Spanish too.  

#merida #canada #cdnpoli #topoli #cutler 3 #canada blows