Lately, there are increasing signs that our borders are about to be besieged by Americans wanting to gain admittance to Canada as they flee from the United States of Trumerica. Such news puts me in the perfect position to offer advice, for I too once felt so out of touch with the zeal of my fellow Americans that I sought protection from them and moved to Canada.
Back then, there was no on-line dating site called “Maple Match,” that could hook me up with a true Canadian to ease my transition. There was no province with a region that was actively courting American interest like there is today (Cape Breton, Nova Scotia). But admittance to Canada was much easier in 1970 than it is today. We just drove up to the border, announced our desire and intention to stay, the border guards brought us into an office, interviewed us for 20 minutes, gave us “approved immigrants” cards and sent us on our way to discover Canada. I’m told that the procedure is far more complicated and time-consuming today, especially for Americans. I’m not sure but I think it is a kind of generational process now. You apply on behalf of your children or grandchildren.
The Barron Trump, has made much of his intention to “build a wall,” ostensibly to keep Mexicans out of Trumerica. But his hidden agenda, when walls are built along both southern and northern borders, is to keep Americans in! But even if fleeing Americans can convince the exit guards on the U.S. side of the border that all they want to do is to see Niagara Falls from the Canadian side and ‘come right back,’ even if they succeed in doing that, admittance to Canada is no sure thing.
Ever been arrested for smoking a spliff? You’re out. Not admissible. Non admitti. Go back to where you belong, you criminal!
Hoping to pack along your Uzi, your AK-47, your Glock or even your little, toy-like .22 caliber pistol? You’ll be handcuffed and incarcerated on the spot! I am not kidding! Even bringing ammunition for an automatic weapon into Canada is illegal. The trauma of such an event may be all mitigated somewhat because one the Canadian border guards does say, “Please turn around and place your hands behind your back,” before they shackle you. That “please” goes a long way with some people.
Really, Canada is not the best place to which Americans should consider escaping. I wrote this bit of advice on the morning of May 15, 2016. The overnight weather forecast, here in the most southerly part of Canada, was for snow!
Australia is a land of perpetual heat and sunshine, wide, sandy, surf-fed beaches with roughly-spoken, beer-swilling inhabitants who like to drive trucks and shoot things. It is much more like America than Canada is. Americans fleeing to Canada will be shocked and dismayed to learn that yes, we have some beaches and surf, but that surf is fuelled by melting icebergs! If you wish to become Canadian, you would have to swear allegiance to the Queen of Canada, who not coincidentally, is also the Queen of England. Allegiance!
She gets up one morning and says aloud to her many hovering clerks (who are called “clarks” in England for the sole purpose of being difficult), she says, “We would like some freshly tapped maple syrup on our toast this morning,” and all of Canada has to go on high alert to refresh the Queen’s larder lest she (or should it be they?) “would like” maple syrup again tomorrow. Would you be one of the many Canadians required to hop to attention and to get that syrup to her by breakfast (Greenwich time)? No excuse is acceptable.
You wouldn’t like living in Canada. Trust me.
We have no capital punishment. We use the metric system, a system in which it must be below zero degrees in order to be considered cold. 20 degrees celsius is shirt-sleeve weather, not because we are hardy, but because it really is pleasantly mild. We have a twelve-year old boy as our Prime Minister. Our Minister of Defence wears a turban. No weapons of any kind may be brought into Canada. Even the kitchen knives you thought you might bring with you must be made of flexible, neoprene foam or a similar substance. It snows ten to eleven months of the year and there’s poor sledding during the brief summer. You have to say, “eh” at the end of every sentence that you utter in which you are seeking confirmation, eh? And perhaps the most difficult requirement for being Canadian is that you have to be polite. (See above, “Please turn around…”)
So as a fully adapted American Canadian, I must ask you to PLEASE consider alternatives when it comes time to pack up and leave. Maybe Trumerica will not be such a bad place in which to live. Maybe Australia, New Zealand or Argentina would be the place for you. Maybe, before giving up on your fellow Americans who think that the Jerry Springer Show or Duck Dynasty represents the real America, and that that’s a good thing, maybe before then you should start changing America by insisting on an educational system that has ‘crap detecting’ as its most basic tenet and let that system teach such controversial subjects as evolution, heliocentric astronomy, and that mammary glands (though they can be sexually exciting) are not a threat to anyone (including your Führer, oops, I meant to say your Barron.)
I’d write more, but it’s now time for me to go shovel out.