by Wendy Klatch: Female Columnist, Lady Writer
“Don’t get me wrong – unlike most women, I have opinions.”
I’m back, Canada! Where have I been? Well, after my first column, they locked me up in what we call in the news biz “the dog kennel in the back.” That’s where they put the top dogs, the award winners, the cream of the clickers, i.e. MOI. Starve me up, keep me hungry until I’m foaming at the mouth and howling for a hot take.
Worry not, ya bunch of mild-tempered Gord Down-ers, I can taste raw steak at the back of my throat and I want IN. We didn’t fire all the journalists for nothing; we are COLUMNISTS and we’ve got shit to SAY. Dig what I’m spelling out, ya group of maple-fingered ding-dongs?
I’ve been keeping my finger on the pulse, you see, and I can’t seem to leave you guys unattended for a few months without the absolute idiots in Quebec going bat-shit crazy about a few ill-conceived words. Eh oui! (that’s French). “Euh, stop talking about us, ouh-la-la,” cried a bunch of whiny babies. If this had happened in Alberta, they’d simply be dusting off their cowboy boots and buying Tim Horton’s for every single one of their neighbours. If this had happened in Nova Scotia…just kidding, no one gives a fuck about the Maritimes. Is Saskatchewan still part of Canada? I don’t know, but I’m standing half-naked on Dundas street right now and I could literally eat a small family of horses.
Anyway, what are those poutine munchers moaning about this time? I called up my buddy who drove through Hudson once and he confirmed: Quebecers will all die alone, because clown pants and ATMs. Truth hurts, mes amis. Andrew Potter knows what he’s talking about – you don’t become emperor of the Institute for the Study of Canada by accident. You get there through hard work and high fives. I know what I’m talking about; I live in Toronto.
Poor Potter now has to resign because Quebecers just can’t deal with a touch of sweeping generalities about their people and culture. Get a grip, mangeurs de marde. Your lack of backbone has lead to the crumbling of academia. It’ll just never be the same across Canada, because of YOU, “Quebec.” It’s not the first time that you get your knickers in a twist either. One of the positive outcomes of this brouhaha is that we, thin upper crust of anglo media elite, can finally admit we agreed with Jan Wong all along!
I’d also like to take this opportunity to tell you about the repercussions of this drama on my friend Mike. Mike went to Concordia and doesn’t know who Julie Snyder is. Mike is an Anglo, capital A. You see, in Quebec, there’s this thing that’s very unique in the world: a majority speaks a certain language and a minority speaks another. The minority feels alienated, you see, because they just no comprendo what “Ti-Cuir” even refers to. This makes Mike feel very sad and has everything to do with Quebec’s backwardness. It’s a very particular phenomenon. Read all about it in my friend Mike’s Montreal Gazette! Tomorrow, they return to their regular programming of think pieces for 70-year olds in Westmount.
I’m off, it’s feeding time! They just cut two keen 20-year olds from the newsroom and I hear they both have particularly fleshy thighs. Bon appétit!
Canadian media is dead, Long live Canadian media!
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