nORTHERN FIRECRACKERs

mONTREAL, July 1 - Canada Day. A day when Canadians of all colors, creeds, and credit ratings dance, sing and thank God for theWar of 1812. Quizzed for greater meaning amid the fireworks though, many Canadians soon admit that much of what it means to be Canadian revolves around what it means not to be "American" – a serial misnomer given that there is no nation of "America." (Go ahead, check any atlas for any nation-state ever named "America.")

Pressed further, many Canadians will devolve into a wretched gut-spilling spiel about their inherent dullness. Why?

1) Like a Shia' Muslim whipping his back during Ramadan, ritual Canada bashing is
the only true path to true Canadiana?
2) Telling people you're dull might preempt them from agreeing?
3) Canadians are too dull to realize they're no more dull than everyone else?

I vote for number three. Here's why. As French are surly, Italians are unreliable, and Swiss spend every waking hour making chocolate or repairing cuckoo clocks, Canadians are unarguable dullards. But compared with whom exactly? Swedes? The Macon County Elks? Pete Sampras? No. Compared to The United States of America, of course. After all, The United States is the richest, most powerful nation in history. Further, "Americans" are full of color, dynamism, high stakes and heart breaks. Just ask an accountant in Akron, realtor in Reno, lineman for the county in Wichita, or anyone doing anything in Duluth.

Life in the USA runs a madcap gauntlet, from managing leisure-ware at Wall-Mart to clicking keyboards at Citibank. Luckily, Canadians can easily visit marquee USA locals, featuring a range of spectacles from retirees nibbling early-bird specials in Hollywood, Florida to older men on the take dating younger woman on the make in Hollywood, California.

Then there is New York.

Not the New York State speckled with the rabble of the Uticas and Buffalos of the world. I'm talkin' Gotham. The city. No, not the Buttafuccolands of Queens, Long Island et al. I'm talkin' Manhattan. And not some backwater like Bensonhurst or Harlem, or the drone-zone that is Mid-Town and the East Side. I mean cool-cutting-edge-New York. Forward brushed haircuts, Herman Munster shoes, rim reinforced glasses with yellow tints - even for people who don't need glasses - all out to eat expensive tiny dinners on cheap satellite-dish sized dinner plates.

Check any magazine editor operating from a windowless cubicle or investment banker crunching 20 hours a day over a desktop. The Big Apple is the-center-of-everything. That means Big Applites are the center-of- everything. They wake up, take showers, ride the subway, work at desks, eat lunch, work at desks, ride the subway, repeat. Try finding that in Canada.

As the defacto U.S. capital New York is carful to avoid anything in common with the rest of the country. North of the border though that distiction is often lost. Instead the city and the country become synonyms for a quick-drawing, global Top Gun.

The facts behind the synonym?

First, the people - Land of the Free, Home of the Brave, Nation of Rugged Individuals, blazing a universal trail while eating Olestra, shopping the GAP, and listening to Ricky Martin.

Second, Canadians say so - even if they mutter under their breath when they say so.

Reflecting on this sunny Canada Day over a latte with a select circle of internationally concerned Gotham cohorts, it seems that Canadians are less dull than neurotic; like a supercilious cousin who held his open palm over an open flame if he missed just one word on his third-grade spelling bee, while the rest of the class with half the marks went out to play kick-the-can.

Now an accomplished adult still fascinated by imperfection, cousin Canada sucks his thumb and wets the bead while the rugged individuals below pop cold ones, cheer NASCAR, live la vida loca, and still find time to spin excellent myths.

Yours truly,

Xandor
Copy Boy In-Chief