TheFurFiles - Felicitous Factoids, Musical Mephistopheles, Crazy Canadians
Madame Floretta “Fern” De Villiers, a.k.a. “Amanda Fox”, is an author of erotic fiction and commentary. The following is an excerpt from her weekly advice column.
Friday, June 3rd, 2011.
Dear Fern,
I know you’ve probably heard this question a million times before, but why are Canadians so crazy? First it was “Weird Al” Yankovic – Canadian idiot – then it was Atom Egoyan and David Cronenberg (have you SEEN their movies?), then it was Crazy Larry out in Banff – the guy who plays road hockey while wearing rubber gloves and a balloon hat – and then it was Michael Buble. Yeah, Michael Buble. Now it’s the parents of baby Storm. Don’t you think this “I just want my kid to live a free/genderless/dumbass/bordering on child abuse” way of life will screw the kid up but good? I mean come on, “it” already has a freakin’ weird name.
Sincerely,
John David William Matthew Smith, proud conservative
Dear John,
Whew, I was just out polishing my snowmobile. And I know, all this summer-time fun up here in Canada has been eating away at my work obligations – like answering stunningly astute questions such as yours – but I do want to thank you. See, I’m glad I heard the wailing siren (sort of resembles a high security prison “someone’s escaping” horn) that my computer makes every time a new question comes through on my email server. I was beginning to turn into a icicle out there under my parka and tuque because (like most Canadians) I am not smart enough to know when frostbite is beginning to set in, possibly because I’ve had it so many darn times.
Seriously though, couldn’t you have asked a simpler question, like whether or not I thought Lady Gaga was the antichrist? That would’ve been a much easier one to answer.
As for baby Storm, I don’t think life will be easy, but hey, who ever said that life was SUPPOSED to be easy? Like sheesh, my girlfriend’s great aunt’s cat just died and my neighbour’s snow blower just STOPPED working the other day, right in the middle of a fifty-inch plow out. Certainly we all suffer, but somebody’s gotta be the one to push the envelope from time to time otherwise we’d all still be living in caves wearing white powdered wigs and driving around in carriages in our acid wash jeans.
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