by Roxane Hudon
Salut la gang! Bonne St-Jean tabarnak! (Maman: “Pourquoi tu sacres toujours Roxane?”) Growing up in the English suburbs of Montreal, you are ingrained with some kind of weird Canadian patriotism, because you’re a minority within a minority and Barenaked Ladies plays a lot on CHOM and suburban dads love CHOM (except for mine, mine loved HOT COUNTRY 96.5 FM) and you think Canada is so great, because we’re “friendly” and “polite” and “multi-cultural” and we have “mountains”. But as I’ve grown up, moved to LA GRANDE VILLE, started to READ, worked here and there, met some separatists and people from exotic places like TROIS-RIVIERES, I’ve realized that I really don’t relate to CANADA, this enormous mass of land with its invented identity. Anyway, the point of this post is not to bore you with my nonsensical political ideas, but rather to celebrate QUEBEC, on this day, the day we celebrate the beheading of the Jewish preacher John the Baptist, wear flags as capes and drink a lot of Tremblay.
Here, mes amis, are some of the things that make me PROUD de venir du Québec:
MARJO (fuck’n skatin’ in short shorts, whaddup)
ANDRÉ PIS MARC
“À souar, j’sors avec mes chums de filles”
LE PÈRE FOURAS!
SUR LA RUE TABAGA (everything happened there)
LE MOIGNON QUI CHANTE ET QUI JOUE D’LA GUITARE
I could continue, but I’m just going to end it with something that would make EVERYONE vote “yes” for sure
mesdames, messieurs, JULIE, RENÉ PIS CÉLINE, AKA DEUX ÉPAISSES SUR UN SOFA BLANC:
BONNE ST-JEAN LA GANG