Memoirs of a Canuck



Hello my beloved readers.

Forgive me, that opening line was my attempt at pandering, but all of you probably realized as much because you’re so perceptive. And sexy.

If you’re still reading this column, first let me say thank you, and second let me explain what this weekly column will be about. Or should I say aboot?

“Memoirs of a Canuck” will be a non-serious (that means you shouldn’t get offended by anything I write) look at all things Canadian, or simply what I like to call all things right and just in the world.

But who wants to read about Canada, you ask?

My extensive research, which involved randomly talking to strangers on campus on my walk to Starbucks (for what we in journalism call a “latte”), has shown that a niche audience of six people on campus will somewhat-to-deeply care about this column. I can only imagine what the number would’ve been had my sample size been slightly larger. Or had the spillage of my hot drink (what the under-privileged sometimes refer to simply as coffee) not cut research short.

And what gives me the right to discuss Canadian matters is something you might also ask, if you’re a nosy person.

Well, I’ve been Canadian since 1989 and once I survived that first winter in the snow bank, I knew I was destined for great things, like spreading the word of Canada. The snow blindness made things tough at first, but my pet moose told me that it was only to be temporary. Rest in peace, Moosey Moose.

Frankly, I was hoping that this column could offer a change of pace, if nothing else. I don’t know about you folks, but I don’t particularly enjoy 18-year-old columnists in student newspapers preaching to me about politics, religion and fiscal budgets. Yeah, I said it Kernel. I bit the hand that feeds me with the bicuspids of the written word.

Maybe this column can also undo some of the harm fellow Canadian Justin Bieber—who is stealing my thunder right now, but it’s no biggie—has inflicted on the American people. Only time will tell. I guess I’ll just have to wait and, in the meantime, keep writing this column. Don’t groan, it’s rude.

So, come along on a magical Canadian adventure with me and gain a better appreciation of the land that gave you Bieber Fever. OK, I trashed him above, but I’ll admit that using that boy wonder’s name certainly draws in an audience.

Just think, you might actually learn a few interesting nuggets of information about your neighbo(u)rs to the north. Wouldn’t you feel like a loser if the next time you were playing your weekly session of Trivial Pursuit with your parents and a question about Canada popped up, and you didn’t know the answer because you failed to read “Memoirs of a Canuck?” Yep, you’d be a total loser.

Then again reader, you’re so smart you wouldn’t need my help in a game of Trivial Pursuit.