Tall Tales From A Short Canadian

Don’t me get wrong. I LOVE Canada, especially my snug mountain valley and its beasts, and of course, I love many Canadians very much. But . . .

One of my worst fears has come true. Stephen Harper, whom I have passionately disliked since I first saw the weiner on television, is the Prime Minister of Canada. I lived in Alberta, amongst the Wannabe-American Earth-Suckers. They love Harper there. Look out Canada, especially gay and lesbian Canada and members of the Canadian Armed Forces. Remember who was furious that we didn’t run up and lick Bush’s balls when he wanted us to follow him on his Blood-for-Oil conquest? Stephen Fucking Harper. Stephen red-neck corporate-puppet looks-like-a-Jehovah’s-Witness-and-lacks-charisma-entirely Harper. I am terribly ashamed and in disbelief. Sure the Liberals did some fucking up! But at least we had a leader who stood up to Bush during the Iraq War. And who dwarfed Bush and stood amongst the world leaders with poise, and a sense of diginity and confidence. Now the weasel Stephen Harper will re-align Canada with the Bush Administration. Canada will become an American lapdog. Canadian soldiers will follow America into meaningless money-making wars. Good ole Protestant ethics (you know, like gays and lesbians are god-darned evil!) will mix with politics like they do with them Suthern Republican buggers, and our country will go to shit. I don’t trust him. I believe he is in allegiance to the Bush Administration, and has been all along, which ties him to a force bigger and more destructive than we can even imagine. I hesitate to call myself a Canadian. I can’t believe you elected him (yeah, YOU! Okay, not you, but YOU!)! It’s embarrassing.

Okay, well, now that my political rant is over, I would like to write as briefly as I can about a chance encounter I had on Sunday while strolling along the raw fish street at the end of Haeundae Beach. I cannot say the man’s name, as he imparted very confidential information to me. He was a Korean chap of roughly my age, and he was either a bit drunk or a bit crazy. Anyway, he asked me where I was going. My plan had been to walk around Dalmaji Hill to the next beach over to see if indeed people surfed there regularly, which is what I have been told. Immediately, he started talking about God, alien races, and the state of disease the world is in, all very passionately, with a profusion of multilingual swear words and animated gestures. His English was a bit unconventional, but it made him seem all the more poetic. Well, I was really hungover (maybe still mildly drunk from the night before) and so we hit it off very well. In fact, we seemed to share many of the same beliefs and sentiments regarding many subjects that are close to my heart.

We sat at a little picnic table between Haeundae Beach and Seonjeong Beach behind a military post and talked for hours (the soldiers have posts like this all along the coastlines to defend against attack from the sea by the North Koreans). The view was expansive and quite beautiful. It was so clear you could see a Japanese island, as well as miles of sandy coastline. After quite sometime, he told me in confidence (and here I am publishing the shit!) that he was constantly plagued with guilt for time he had spent serving the South Korean Army as a covert-operation sniper. On top of this, when he had returned from his sojourn with the Army, he found his wife was pregnant with another man’s baby. Anyway, it was a very heavy afternoon, and I felt quite privaleged to have received this man’s tale and company. The entire conversation had many spiritual connotations throughout. In the end, we shook hands, hugged, and called each other brothers. His family owns a sushi restaurant right on the beach, and I promised him that once Nicole gets here, we’ll be paying him and his restaurant a visit. About 10,000  won ($10) will get us stuffed with fresh, raw fish. Super good guy, this one!

Tomorrow is Math and P.E. day with my kindergarten kids. This is generally when the week starts to fall apart. It gets ugly in there: pencils, eraser bits, snot, tears, blood, and crayons flying like the debris of war. I’m serious about this.

Well, the habs are playing like shit and Harper is the new P.M., so I guess now is as good a time as any to be abroad. And as for you lucky snow hounds in the Kootenays: I fart in your general direction…

Peaceout,

Tee Cha Su Tee Bun