Olympic Spirit

I stand with a lot of people in not caring too much about the Olympics * . There is a lot of yak about it at work, in the lunch room of the educational institution where I work. The lunch room is representative of Canadian diversity: everyone there is paying taxes to support the welfare state, there are people hired to fill quotas, and nobody openly supports Stephen Harper for fear of losing their job.

But, the rest of the gang lap up the Olympic coverage. Today at lunch was no different in the yakking about medals, sports heroes, and events. But the conversation was uniquely Canadian, about Canadian medals, Canadian sports heroes, and Canadian events. There was some dissonance, from one of our hyphenated Canadians. He only wanted to talk about the impressive triple victory of Jamaica. As you can imagine, in a room of education industry types, this cheering for a team other than there own, was met with polite Canadian politeness.

‘Fuck Canada,‘ said the Jamaica is the worlds best country fan. This got my attention.

The silence was thick and cold. But, it remained silence, broken only by Jamaica fans laughter as he initiated eye contact with his opponents who had been cheering for Canada. They hid behind their soup and salad, and averted their eyes to the Toronto Star.

You know, the Jamaican-Canadian was right. Fuck Canada.

The country I was born and raised in, is not this place called Canada. I was born under a different flag than the red leaf and tampon. Where I grew up, criminals lived in fear. Wife beaters were beaten up by the police … that was their job. Being incompetent, lazy, stupid, or a creep was not a ticket to social housing, welfare, and free dental care. Being a bastard was not considered good. Anybody who worked hard and demonstrated effort was rewarded with respect and opportunity. Abortion was not birth control. Our murder rate was a fraction of the Americans. Our foreign enemies feared us. Our churches helped the few poor we had. Men spoke their minds. People who said stupid stuff, we considered stupid. Being a loser was not a way to generate jobs for people who enabled losers.

Fuck Canada. The Jamaican-Canadian hit the bitch in the jaw, fo’ sho’. What a crappy country. My tribe is still true to their cultural norms. My brothers and cousins still take time out to beat up men who abuse our sisters. We call lazy people lazy. Our tribe members who are social parasites are outcast, even if they find accommodation and appeasement at the hands of those that are well paid to enable their parasite nature. We work hard, having accumulated a few generations of wealth in the form of cottages in cottage country, heirloom china, and vintage cars. Our sisters do not need abortion: they know how to cross their legs, say no, or punch louts in the balls. The police fear us. We do not kill each other, except for adultery, blasphemy, or cheating at chess. We speak our minds, but only to our own kind.

The country I was born in was much better than this racist shithole that is Canada. I want to go back there. I will have equal funding from the money tree in Ottawa. The aristocrats there can fund other cultures, now they better fund mine. I want my slice of Olympic spirit pie. If I do not get treated like all the other Diaper-Canadians, you can expect me to act like a Diaper-Canadian. And my tribe has an average IQ higher than 85. Get out your chequebooks, you aristocrats in government, the judiciary, academia, and the arts. Send me your money.

Lindisfarne, or your money. My illustrious ancestor Ragnar Hairybreeks would have it no other way.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this

xpd Mitchieville, DustMyBroom, Stormy Days of March