Kalah Allen
Screw you, Canada! This is a letter directed straight to that slovenly sister to the north of us that has the audacity to even call itself a "country!" To all of its inhabitants who get a rise out of terrorizing American tourists: three years ago, I was mugged (the only time I was ever mugged in my life) in a BC train station. I swore I would never return to that Godforsaken nation. But, not being apparently wise enough to learn the first time, I've since been back--and last weekend, while basking in the fun and merriment of Vancouver, my car was broken into. Among the articles stolen were my CD player, my entire collection of burned CDs, and a pack of gum. For Chrissakes, Canada! I'm thinking of you cruising the streets, jamming out to my burned copy of The Best of Women's Bluegrass. I wonder if you're really up there, maybe smokin' some legalized maryjane and grooving out to the greatest hits of Johnny Cash, also burned. At least have the decency to sell the CD player. Then you can buy yourself your own fucking pack of gum, and shove it up your maple leaf-lovin' ass