My apologies, then -- it occurred to me this morning that four straight days of lists does no honour to my friends reading this. So, I'm keeping my list, but I'll keep it off-camera. If I simply reference "#45" one day while talking about my adventures as a street performer, then you can smile at our little in-joke.
However, for the sake of completion, we'll wrap this up right now:
101. Hug an American.Now, I've been known to polish my resentment/outrage of America until it emits blackbody radiation -- it's practically part of the Canadian identity. But that doesn't make the world a better place, and I'd like to have that as part of the Canadian identity, too. Regardless of how I feel about their politics, or their foreign policies, or their automobiles, or their reality television, the healing process has to start sometime. If not, then they'll remain alone, unable to heed anyone's advice save that of their sycophants, who are either too blind, too scared, or too self-serving to be a friend. That's how we lost Elvis, and I'm not going to let it happen again.
So if any Americans are reading this, know that I'm putting aside my Yankee-hating ways, and that's harder than you might think. It might not have been healthy, but some days, it was like injecting pure schadenfreude right into your veins.