Wow! I love Olympics! I do. I really do. I watch it all: Ski Jumping, Figure Skating, Biathaloning, and Hockey..ing. And I`m no expert, but tell me, was there something up with those closing ceremonies?

I loves myself a good “Poo Poo on us” joke more than anyone, but as our nations gift shop exploded with the largest, mish mashed, snow globe I’ve ever seen, was the world laughing with us, or at us?

Hardy har har, they took every Canadian stereotype, filled them with Helium and tied them to a string. Even Mlle. O’Hara didn’t escape the Helium treatment…. Oh, wait. I’m being told that was her, aux naturale. Sorry.

As I watched on with some hipster friends of mine, they pondered aloud what it means to be truly Canadian. Diversity, Multiculturalism, Aboriginal land claim disputes all came up. One’s profound words were, “Isn’t the essence of being truly Canadian wondering what it means to be truly Canadian?”

That’s deep. But not nearly as deep as Mr. Shatner’s scotch glass must have been before he came up from the underworld to talk about intimacy in a canoe. It’s a strange brew to be both proud and embarrassed, all at once.

About the Author: megan
It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood for this young creative professional who blogs about her adventures in downtown Hamilton, cultural treasure hunting, phenomenon analysis, and timbit experiments.

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