I recently wrote about how I’m almost cartoonishly Canadian. So, in the interest of fairness and balance, I thought I’d also share the reasons for which my maple syrup privileges should be revoked.

 

I could not care less about hockey if I tried

I have seen exactly one hockey game from beginning to end: the women’s gold medal win at the 2006 Olympics. That’s it. Otherwise, I’ve seen a few minutes here and there, usually while checking in with my parents, who follow the Ottawa Senators closely.

To be fair, I feel that way about all professional sports. I mean, in Roman times, the rich gathered to watch the poor do battle for their entertainment, now the poor gather to watch the rich do battle. It’s weird.

I just couldn’t care less. Also, a hockey game lasts, like, three hours, but has only three 20 minute periods . . . What in the hell is going on for the other two goddamn hours?!?

(Oh, and yes, it’s just hockey. Not “ice hockey”. What, you’re afraid we might mix it up with lawn hockey? That’s like calling tennis “court tennis” in case some dumbass might think you’re talking about table tennis . . . which is ping pong, by the way.)

 

I don’t enjoy winter sports

Look, I grew up doing this stuff. I’ve been skating, I’ve played hockey, I’ve been cross country skiing, I’ve been downhill skiing (five minutes of actual activity for every thirty minutes spent freezing on a chairlift . . . Fun!), and none of them took.

The one exception is snow-shoeing. That’s basically winter hiking, so, yeah, cool, I’m on board. The rest of it? I’ll make sure the coffee’s made and drinks are mixed for when you get back. Nice? Nice.

 

I could take or leave bacon

I know, I know, this doesn’t just make me a bad Canadian, it makes me a bad human. Even vegetarian friends tell me it’s the thing they miss the most. And, to be clear, I don’t dislike bacon, I can just very easily do without. I’ve never bought bacon myself and likely never will, and y’know those breakfast plates where you get, like, two eggs, potatoes and the choice of sausage or bacon? I always pick the sausage.

 

While living in Ottawa, I always left the city on Canada Day

When I last lived in Ottawa, I was in an apartment in the heart of the Market, on the corner of Murray and Dalhousie. Anyone who knows Ottawa knows that this particular part of the city turns into a goddamn outdoor frat party on Canada Day. So, yeah, every year, to celebrate the Nation, I screwed right off to Montreal, where Quebecers, in a ludicrous and self-defeating burst of defiance, made July 1^st their traditional moving day. No drunken revelers, just a bunch of frustrated Francophones trying to find a parking spot for their $600/day rental moving van.

O, Canada, indeed.

 

I don’t follow Canadian politics

I rarely, if ever, give my opinion regarding Canadian politics because, well, I don’t think I have the right to do so, as I am really not very well informed at all. It’s just kind of a snooze and, when American politics are just so crazypants fascinating and entertaining (and, yes, infuriating), it’s like trying to pay attention to a moderately well-made documentary about lightbulbs while your neighbors are having a really loud fight while plotting to set fire to the building and also possibly having sex. It just can’t be done.

 

I think the music of the Tragically Hip and Arcade Fire is boring and overrated

Okay, this one’s likely to be the most controversial of the bunch. Let me first say that this is about the music itself and not the musicians personally. I agree: Gord Downie is pretty much a saint at this point. Okay? We good on that? Okay.

But, as for the music? Honestly, I don’t get it. Musically, I find the Arcade Fire to be pretty pretentious stuff. And boring. As for the Tragically Hip: less pretentious, sure, but also really boring. So boring.

 

So, yeah, I’m Canadian, but not that Canadian. I’ve had to explain the points above on numerous occasions. But, hey, I’ll take a few chinks in my Canadian armor over listening to the Hip while playing hockey and discussing the last parliamentary resolution.