Life is not so rosy over the border in Canada

Unlike angry Americans of the left, I have a crush on my country. Snippy Euro lectures do not bother me, nor do I fret over their finger-wagging about Iraq. Without our help these pseudo-intellectuals couldn't tear down a wall.

Canada's snobbery is more troublesome because these are socialists with attitude. Canada is Minnesota with purple hair.

Last month found me miserable in Ottawa. Sure, the Canadians have 100 km per hour speed limits, but my head pounds trying to convert kms to miles. Everyone has a formula for converting kms to miles and Celsius to Fahrenheit, which usually involves pi and the exchange rate.

That's too much math, so I assume tundra weather and five hours to the next town. I charge everything and let American Express do the conversions. The only downside is rolled eyes from clerks in railroad boots and eyebrow earrings when I charge a 99-cent Celsius bag of Chex mix.

I generally work in a run when I travel for up-close looks at cities. However, I never run in Baltimore, Philadelphia or other cities run by Democrat mayors. One glance at those cities' streets and you realize that the likelihood of returning back safely from a run is about the same as the conversion rate for kilometers.

As I passed Canadian natives along a lovely Ottawa river path run, I offered a "good morning!" to each. Not one replied. On the second morning I tried, "Good morning, eh?" Nothing! My Canadian path comrades were detached, pained and annoyed. There are cracks in that idyllic Canadian exterior worshipped by Michael Moore, Hillary Clinton, et al. "Canadians don't have crime and violence!" "Canadians have universal health care and cheap prescription drugs!" Dear followers of socialist Utopian dogma, restrain your worship whilst I offer facts!

My interactions beyond the runs revealed a Canadian facade. Rebellion percolates. The clerk at a tiny grocery store near my hotel told me my soda would be "$1.30." I did some meaningless quadratic equations and gave her what I thought were the correct Canadian coins to cover it.

"Wait, sweetheart (she was a lovely woman), you owe 20 cents more in tax." I looked puzzled because I was still memorizing the exchange rate for the day, but she assumed my bewilderment was over the price increase and she continued, "We don't give you the price with tax because it's so high it would scare you." I said, "You need some conservatives up here to get your taxes down." She shook her head so violently that I thought her braids would come undone, "Yes, or those crooked lawmakers ousted."