America, my Beautifully Evil Mistress

I have come to, well somewhat of a conclusion. America is a country where if one plays by the rules they are considered a sissy; worse, if one is caught breaking the rules they are considered an idiot, a laughingstock. I draw your attension to the lillywhite with his name sewn onto his underpants standing at an open intersection in midtown waiting for the light to turn green! Witness the suit leaping out of the way of Joe Pakistani's cab after hurridly crossing on red... dufus!

Maybe my crime was that I only skirted the laws, the weakly passive aggressive Canadian approach... Getting caught skirting... that however does, kind of make me feel like a bafoon!

All is not lost, freedom of movement into and around ONE single country in this big ol' world, albeit one of the world's most wonderful, is not cause for total dispair. Separation from my friends is agonizing, one in particular, mortifyingly horribly awful...

Being stuck in Canada, I face no juntas, no persecution other than that of being too freindly and nowhere near critical enough of my evil mistress. Fortunately you don't play Canada like a fiddle, you play it like a six note kindergarten xylaphone. All is not lost, temporary setbacks allthough perhaps not so easily, can always be overcome.

The ol' bridgewalker has to become a bridgemaker, and I have a STRONG ally in this...

Feeling fiesty this morning, fiesty focussed and dry; I challenege myself to the clear objective of coming home... as a matter of fact, my goal will be to make them beg me to come back. AND who knows... maybe, maybe at some point upon hearing this cry for my return... my answer will simply be NO THANKS.

Agreed, a somehwhat dellusional self agrandizement; a bit of selfworth defence mechanism at play. But I am not a baffoon, just an unlucky sod who, after years skirting the rules just caught the subway grate draft, exposed his hams and got a great big ol' bite on the ol'...

We'll see you soon.