Category: universe

politics, sports, pop, fashion, science with a sprinkling of thinkings

The Midnight Train Goin’ Anywhere

a confusing array of kitchen cabinet knobs and pulls. Who could decide? They are all fine.

Kitchens. Baths. Mudrooms. Decks. Master suites. Remodels. Some people are all about the process of remaking a home into theirs: the discovery, the design, the development. Me? I’m about the Done.

The thought of picking out knobs for cabinets, looking for the perfect granite vein, comparing backsplash options, selecting faucet and matching vanity lights? Shoot me now, in the head.

It’s not that I don’t care. I want a good remodel. I want to respect the bones of our great old house. I definitely have an aesthetic, but extreme nuance is uninteresting and somewhat unfathomable to me. Shades of taupe? Notched or twisted pull? I really don’t care. Does it work? Is it sturdy? Does it look okay? Great! Done and done.

I’m simple. My goal is to be able to cook a good dinner and for my guests to be able to turn on the light in the bathroom. Right now it’s a trick. The switch is on the outside wall. Inside would be a huge win. Another criteria is that nobody gets electrocuted. If someone gives me a reasonable fixture option, I’ll say yes. I care about completion and operation.

A friend was talking about a partner who wants to completely understand the process. He’s researching the natural light from multiple sources and how they will blend and create a perfect reading spot. He explores design with the fervor of a securities attorney unraveling the complex law–in this case laws of nature, laws of composition, and even, perhaps, those of humanity. The journey is made of hundreds, if not thousands, of turns that will determine the future of their lives.

Me, I’ll take the average of those options and plot a way forward. I’m not so deep.

I’m not being flip. Okay a little flip, but I don’t think he’s wrong. I’ll stipulate that there can be meaning in all those options. I personally can’t care about most of them. It’s why I only drove back to Detroit twice in decades. I can’t stand to drive eleven hours–twenty-two round trip–when I can fly in seventy minutes. I care about being there not getting there.

“Wait, Doc!” you say. “Look out the window will you?”

And to you I say, “have you ever driven on the Ohio Turnpike? Nothing to see here. Move along.” Yes, I have patience issues. I want to be there more than get there.

People have their things. People really enjoy the art and craft of serial-remodeling, either the same house or flipping houses. People like to shop shop shop for the best antique or best bargain or best find. People tinker with their cars inside and out, sometimes spending more time on the detailing than on driving.

I’m not immune. I would rather start a meal from scratch–selecting, washing, cutting and roasting or sautéeing vegetables; whisking the mustard into the oil and lemon juice for a vinaigrette; flipping a steak continuously in a red hot cast iron skillet and basting it with butter. Some call me crazed to perform cooking feats at the end of a workday. But this journey, from kitchen to table, is as important to me as the destination, from fork to lips.

I don’t know why some journeys have meaning to some and not to others. Why the selection of a pecan over a walnut floor stain defines peace for one person and elicits indifference in another? Why having flowers in my house is important to me, but arranging them is not?

When I was thinking about being a destination person and not a journey person, I realized that I was wrong. We are all on our own meta-journey that is made up of mini-journeys and side destinations along the way.  This greatest journey has a destination, too. The destination none of us will avoid, but most of us are not anxious to see.

I’m working on enjoying my overall journey on my own path until it’s natural end. There’s nothing else.

Posted on by docthink 0

The Last Top 12 Habits of Successful People Post You’ll Read

The number 1 and the number 2 painted on two boards, but put next to each other so it looks like 12.

Are you like me? Wait. Maybe don’t answer that. Let’s try a different tack. 

Let me ask you if you, too,  are exasperated and exhausted by  reading laundry list after laundry list of what “successful” people do to become that way? Are you tired, too, of hearing about their certain and specific traits or techniques that, if applied, would make the rest of us bums successful, too? Lather, rinse and repeat?

Frankly, I don’t know who I want to punch in the neck more–the authors of these self-esteem busting screeds, or me, for reading this crap and thereby encouraging them via my stupid clicks.

So, in honor of reading the absolute last one of these trash posts that I will ever read (believe me on this, I already excised any list that says, “Number 4 will surprise you!” so this is easy), I’m  sharing my version. And, yes, I’m prepared for you to try and punch me in the throat, since that only seems fair.

Fast Company published a list of Twelve Habits of the Most Productive People. It’s the one that sent me over the edge. I’m re-writing the how-to-accomplish in the realest way I know. This is for those of us who are NOT the most productive, no matter how many listicles we read. Oh, and by the way, for you smarty pants productivity freaks, I have a set of choice words for you–unless you were just born that way and don’t really try. In those cases, no flies on you.

My take on the last list of productivity “hacks” we’ll never need.

So what do productive people do?

  1. Fast Company says: They [in which there is an equations where they = productive people] focus on what matters. Productive people focus on what matters.
    DocThink Says: For example, don’t read bullshit posts with lists about productivity. They don’t matter.
  2. FC list says: They [productive people] know the difference between urgent and important.
    Doc says: Urgent is someone else’s emergency that is bogarting on your important binge watch of Master of None. The important thing is will Dev’s mom ever learn her marks.
  3. FC: They plan their days.
    Doc: Like wake up, drink coffee, do stuff throughout the day, eat, brush your teeth, go to bed. This pretty much works for me everyday. I don’t even need to check the list anymore.
  4. FC: They know where to find what they need when they need it.
    Doc: Actually, I’d argue that you’re more productive if you just learn to do without. Except coffee. But I know where that is. Always.
  5. FC: They have set routines.
    Doc: Now really. This list is getting redundant. See #3 above.
  6. FC: They salvage wasted time.
    Doc: Ten minutes before your next meeting? Don’t waste time. Instead start something that makes you late to the next meeting. Waste the other folks’ in the meeting time instead.
  7. FC: They only attend meetings with a purpose.
    Doc: That would be happy hour. Can we start at 4 p.m.?
  8. FC: They do the things they don’t want to do.
    Doc: This one is about procrastinating. I’ll get back to it later
  9. FC: They aren’t perfectionists.
    Doc: That’s easy for me. I don’t believe in perfection.
  10. FC: They leave gaps in their schedule.
    Doc: I call my gap Day Drinking. Now that the weather is good, we can do it outside. Reference to #7 above.
  11. FC: They multi-task wisely.
    Doc: Like resetting the Netflix password while popping corn and having your SO get you a drink. Seriously, 3 things at once. Is there a Season 2 coming for Master of None?
  12. FC: They quit strategically.
    Doc: Like now. Done. #dropsmic
Posted on by docthink 2

Throw Me Something, Mister!

Cleaning up a bunch of beads after a Mardi Gras parade. Please note the public works trucks and personnel.

Say what you will about New Orleans, but our cousins in Louisiana can sure throw a parade. They are known to take over a street for the special occasion of it being a Sunday.

More importantly, not only can they take a street over, they know how to give it back. Amazing is the sight of the very end of the parade–the Krewe of Cleanup. It doesn’t take hours for a street to reopen, but minutes after the last float throws its last beads, cars are released and traffic goes back to it’s typical snarl.

It doesn’t work that way in D.C.

Foot and coach traffic have been diverted in anticipation of upcoming motorcades. A labyrinth of jersey walls, cones, snow fences and police vehicles have corralled pedestrians and vehicles for days and days. Scores of corners are overseen by uniformed police with weapons. Some sit in their cars. Others stand. Reflector-vested and gloved officers are standing in the middle of intersections overriding the red-yellow-green of the temporarily redundant traffic lights. Tanks and humvees line commuting corridors.

For fifty people here for two days.

Since those fifty people are the leaders of 50 different countries–countries like Algeria, Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Brazil, Canada, China, Germany, France, India, Indonesia, Italy, Japan, Kazakhstan, Malaysia, Mongolia, the Netherlands, Nigeria, Austria, Pakistan, Portugal, Romania, Russia, Saudi-Arabia, Singapore, Thailand, Czech Republic, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, United Kingdom, United States of America, Vietnam, South Africa, South Korea, Sweden and Switzerland–that’s a lot of security. That means a lot of motorcycles and a lot of squad cars leading a lot of limos with a lot of little flags from a lot of different countries.

Still, these diplomatic parades are short. They pass by in a matter of seconds. There is no detritus of coins, cups, strands or flasks. There are no hundreds or thousands of revelers to move along. Heck, there are no revelers, just the anticipation of bad guys.

Streets are closed. Traffic is gridlocked. And there isn’t even a chance of getting a long string of beads for those inconvenienced. I hope they do something about those nukes.

Posted on by docthink 0

Pass The Nuts

I know that lots of people only occasionally fly. I know that airports and airport etiquette can be very foreign. I do not expect expertise from my fellow travelers, and, in fact, sometimes exhibit airport clumsiness myself.

That caveat aside, seriously, what the hell is wrong with some of you?

How do you normally figure things out?

I recommend less going to your memory banks on how it was last time you flew–2008?–or a whack video you saw on YouTube. Also please disregard the purported inside tips from your somewhat-sophisticated brother-in-law or from your fantasy football league commissioner, especially if their great knowledge is based upon an email they received from an “expert” source. [PSA: please check wild claims that get passed around social media on snopes.com before adding to the noise. We all thank you in advance.]

Another idea is to use environmental information. One really great technique is to read the signs. There are many, many signs in airports. People actually have jobs to create signage. You don’t have to let all their work go to waste.

When I checked in for my flight, I was jazzed to see that the travel gods bestowed upon me a random TSA PreCheck. Jazz was induced especially because I was wearing boots–it’s the little things in travel. Also, I hate stripping down to my skivvies and filling up 4 or 5 gray bins with my laptop (must be alone in a bin) and shoes and scarves and a one-quart plastic bags full of liquids in containers all less than 3.4 ounces. You still can’t bring a bottle of water, though.

At today’s airport, there are two concourses. My flight was out of Concourse B. Only one had PreCheck open. Of course it was the Concourse A. The sign said the concourses are connected, so I turned around and walked across the mall and food court to the other security line. The woman in front of me read the PreCheck notice and did the same.

Concourse A displayed a 4×3 foot sign directing PreCheck travelers to the left and all others to the right. The sign explained the PreCheck rules which was pretty much put any bag you have on the belt and walk on through.

The woman in front of me removed her shoes and placed her coat in a bin. The family of four also in front of me confusedly pulled multiple bins out. Computers and tablets, belts and sweaters, watches and quart-sized plastic bags all unnecessarily placed with much consternation. The woman behind tapped my shoulder and asked if you could get from Concourse A to Concourse B. I told her yes, at least that’s what the sign said. She said she didn’t read that part.

It wasn’t crowded, so the passenger confusion was mostly self-inflicted. A TSA staffer reminded the six people in our line that they needed to have PreCheck on their boarding pass or go to the other line. A woman sheepishly ducked under the rope between the stanchions to her correct line. Another family crisscrossed to the PreCheck line from the standard line because they couldn’t read, either.

I put my backpack on the conveyer belt and walked through the magnetometer. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

I’m at my gate fifty minutes before the flight. A man in black warmup gear and screaming scarlet kicks walked across the empty airport to the gate. The door to the jetway is wide open, but it’s not time to board. Will Scarlet looks around and, for some unknowable reason, decides to board himself. Seriously. He walked through the door and down the jetway a few steps and walked back out. He had his boarding pass in his hand and inspected the unattended desk and computer. He found the scanner and he SCANNED HIS BOARDING PASS. I am not making this up. Then some clueless woman saw him and followed his lead.

I waited for the monster to spit them out, but nothing happened. I looked at my watch and started to worry that maybe the flight had boarded and I blew it. (I have done this once before.) Now, I’m all consternated. But, unlike my fellow passengers, I walk up to the the kiosk for my flight and check with the people who work there. No boarding yet.

I walk back to my seat to see the two people who took the boarding into their own hands escorted out by an airline employee. She was explaining that boarding would be in 20 minutes. Will Scarlett looked like he didn’t understand. That was the only part that made sense, that Mr. Scarlett was confused. Still.

In my head I’m wondering, did they get all the way to the door of the plane? Did they knock on it? Or was the plane door open? Did they walk on the plane? Was the pilot there? Were there people cleaning the seatbacks?  Or were they just standing on the jetway until someone “found” them?

And damn them for making me look. I knew better, but vagaries in the travel system, the missing of flights, the capriciousness of rules among airports and heightened or de-heightened alert status (more working dogs!), means that you have to verify and not trust your experiences. So, you crazy mixed up travelers, my second piece of advice, in addition to reading signs, is ask the experts. The real experts. Don’t follow Will Scarlett down the jetway.

At least there were peanuts on my flight.

Posted on by docthink 0

Down to the River

Nantucket, the center of the world. A compass and mileage directory.

People stay where they’re from. So people who leave are different.

It’s easy for those of us who have left the farm to look back at those rooted through a long lens. They aren’t like us. And we aren’t like them.

We pretend we don’t understand them, but, without much effort, we could. Since they are us, and we are them.

I grew up in what is now a desert of empty boxes of buildings that once housed three shifts. Of wide boulevards that once moved those shift workers and now cracked by weeds pushing through concrete. The factories and roads are being reclaimed by nature.

Then there is the other nature. The nature of expectations. People, most of them men-people, were expecting to fill those three shifts. Like their fathers, uncles and even grandfathers did. The work was a grind, day-in day-out in a noisy factory, but you earned enough money to raise your family, an awesome health package, a little cottage near a lake and a minor discount on next year’s model. You married your high school sweetheart. You went out with the guys after shift. You did your part.

But now, instead of a cold one on your dock, you’re the protagonist in a Springsteen ode.

And even The Boss doesn’t get you, anymore. He lives in Greenwich. He takes his daughter to dressage competitions. Is that a sport? You played hockey, in the neighbor’s backyard that they flooded after you got your new skates at Christmas.

You never or just barely had a chance at those high-paying factory jobs. You stuck around, waiting for an industry comeback. Instead, the unskilled and semi-skilled jobs that came back paid less. So yeah. You’re disappointed. You’re willing to work hard. But jobs moved across oceans where people get paid pennies and there aren’t all the rules about health and safety and smokestacks that drove work away. The import side of the equation? People from countries not where your people are from with a dollop of terrorism and fear.

Crashed expectations crash into reality.

Those who left are judging those who stayed. Don’t lie. We know them. They are us. And we are them.

Posted on by docthink 0

The Result of a Fundamental Disagreement

Nobody loves your kid like you do.

No. Bod. Dee. So

  • Don’t expect people to want to kiss their snot encased visage. You might be able to look beyond it. Others see green–literally. Don’t put your kid’s face expectantly in mine.
  • Don’t be angry when someone begs off from listening to your child play their musical instrument. Even if they are objectively good (which isn’t that likely) your guests may not want their conviviality interrupted. Even if it is Mozart that is being attempted played. Even at your house. Unless you invited us to a recital, and we had the chance to beg off in advance. No fair bundling your concert with a traditional family get-together, unless you don’t care if we aren’t paying attention and downing shots in the other room.
  • Multiply the negativity above by about one-thousand if the sharing entails a video and people are asked to stop everything, shush, and watch. Shush!
  • An exception is if you are passing around your iPhone with a < 30 second video of something that is funny or is an at-the-buzzer game winning 3-point shot. But only twenty-nine seconds or less. Get to the punchline. Don’t say, “Oh wait, you gotta see this, too.”
  • You want to bring your extraordinarily precocious and mature child you to that adults only event? Don’t ask if it’s okay to bring her or him if “No” will piss you off. That’s not really a choice. You don’t get credit for asking if all you will accept is validation of your parental desire.
  • Movies, let’s go there. Unless it’s a kids’ movie, get a damn babysitter. Their stage whispered cute comments are not what I paid for. Also, they’re only cute to you. See first line in this post.
  • At a sporting event, you bring your children. That’s cool. Other people are not as aware of your kids and their needs as you are. This is especially true in crowds. Your kids are short. They are unusual features of a crowd. They are frequently not seen. I’m not saying stay home, I’m just saying it is what it is. You have to be careful for them, not the strangers. It’s on you if they are jostled or hear curse words. These people left their kids for a reason. They’re off duty.

Let me be clear. I really like your kids. I will make goo-goo faces at them on the subway just to elicit a toothless grin. The drunken old man walk of a toddler really tickles me. I like to sit next to the parent on the plane with the screaming kid to reassure them that not everyone hates them at that moment. Been there.

I watch and like your posts with your adorbs kids on Facebook all the time. I even share some of them. And, it is a known, that I am bonkers for my kids.

But, bottom line, nobody loves your kids like you do.* You shouldn’t be disappointed, mad or rage-quit because of this true fact.

* [Except maybe grandparents. Okay, got me there. This post also applies to them.]

Posted on by docthink 0

Alas, Poor Robert

RG3 suited up and alone.

Both my boys played football. One played skills positions and the other was on the line. They worked really hard. I don’t think they threw up during two-a-days. I know some of the boys did. No flies on them. Washington is brutal in August.

Neither boy won a Heisman. They didn’t end up the second pick in an NFL draft. Lacked the NFL Rookie of the Year honor, too.

Nobody underwent reconstructive knee surgeries. One did have his hand stepped on by a 300 pound freshman lineman when he stepped up to fill a hole on the line. (Yes, it’s true. There were 3-4 freshman that size.)  He was a 165 pound corner just doing his job. It was a hairline fracture and he was cleared for practice in a week.

I love football. And, after watching many, many, many practices and games, I know I truly love the young men who work hard to make plays, playing a game they love.

When Robert came to Washington, the entire city loved him, a super-athlete with an easy, thousand watt smile. What a C.V.! He was a stellar student-athlete, earning his Bachelor’s in 3 years with a 3.7. He played his 4th year of D-1 football eligibility while working on a Masters. Seriously, that’s baller. Oh, and he loves his folks.

I don’t feel like reciting his career, but know that I was saddened to hear he was released from The Washington Football team. I’m glad that his benched-time is over. I still feel like he was misused and abused.

Oh, come on, Doc! some of you say. That guy made more in Subway and Gatorade endorsements his rookie year than you will make in your entire worklife. Put your sympathies to better use.

I’m like. So. What are his big faults? He’s arrogant? He blamed his O-line? He made a logo for himself? He wasn’t buds with the other quarterbacks? He didn’t play hard enough <false>? The team didn’t win <true>?

But, also. Did he flip off an opposing team? Get into “massive fights” at his apartment? Show up all over the place drunk? Hit his girlfriend, many times? While driving drunk, by the way? Did he hurt dogs? Drag a woman out of an elevator by her hair? Violate a restraining order? Drive through a hit and run? Get pulled over for DUI, even once, versus more than once? Murder somebody? [Here’s a list.]

No. He did not.

Did he publicly support his team while dealing with the personal public humiliation of being benched? Well, yes. Yes he did. Still, he worked hard running the  practice squad. Knowing that he wasn’t suiting up he still made his team better by prepping for the opposition–and keeping his head and body in the game for his future.

Robert was a young man recruited by older men to demonstrate Einstein’s definition of insanity. You know, repeating the same experiment and expecting different results.

Bottom line, he came to a Washington Football Team franchise that as a habit brought in a star–could be a coach or a linebacker or a QB–to flip the franchise to #winning.

No matter, there were no more wins. It was always the same result. Loss. Former Washington Football Team linebacker LaVar Arrington–who was once one of those star variables introduced into the proofs of insanity–said you can’t just add a superstar, stir and expect a change if the underlying system is a mess.

That seems right. As long as your owner focuses on a star-savior as a solution and manipulates the savior and the universe around that star to try and voodoo the owner’s desires, the system remains blighted. Your superstar bounces off the tense surface of your dysfunction like a penny on a trampoline and beelines a trajectory to the ground.

And, he ends up ignobly packing a cardboard box with his superhero figures and disapparates away.

Robert didn’t earn that. He gave fans much more.

Alas, dear Robert, we knew ye well. It’s time for us to let you go. I wish you much success. Know that when you come back to D.C., with your new team, I will be rooting for you.

Good luck this next round.

Posted on by docthink 0

Type A or Type B

That 70s Show. Kitty is easy. Red is not.

What kind of parent are you? Here is a little quiz.

  1. Which one is more important for a child to have:
    a. independence or
    b. respect for elders?
  2. Which one is more important for a child to have:
    a. obedience or
    b. self-reliance?
  3. Which one is more important, for a child to be
    a. considerate or
    b. well-behaved?
  4. Which one you think is more important for a child to have:
    a. curiosity or
    b. good manners?

How many A’s did you have? How many B’s?

These simple questions were developed by this guy Feldman from Stonybrook and have been used by social scientists since the 1990’s to help quantify folks’ tendency to very high, high, medium and low levels of authoritarianism. The questions are effective because they aren’t loaded as good and bad options. Both options are fine. They simply identify a preference.

A couple of other guys, Hetherington and Weiler, wrote a book in 2009 that pretty much predicted this year’s inconceivable presidential campaign. No seriously. You don’t have to read the book, it’s in the article. But they talk about how people with high authoritarianism have been sorting themselves to the GOP.

These simple questions identify people’s leanings toward authority. Bottom line, the more A’s, the more you

…prioritize social order and hierarchies, which bring a sense of control to a chaotic world. Challenges to that order — diversity, influx of outsiders, breakdown of the old order — are experienced as personally threatening because they risk upending the status quo order they equate with basic security.– More from VOX.

It’s more than the preference for authoriy that’s driving people now. It’s authoritarianism combined with a concern for their (and their families’) safety.

People do not support extreme policies and strongman leaders just out of an affirmative desire for authoritarianism, but rather as a response to experiencing certain kinds of threats.

So you have the perfect storm. Uncertainty and social changes trigger the desire for the safety of clear and familiar rules and norms + a fear of physical threats especially from outsiders like 911 terrorists or ISIS.

When they face physical threats or threats to the status quo, [some people] support policies that seem to offer protection against those fears. They favor forceful, decisive action against things they perceive as threats. And they flock to political leaders who they believe will bring this action.

But the people being driven to the law and order and social conservatism in the GOP are not necessarily aligned with the party.

The responses to our policy questions showed that authoritarians have their own set of policy preferences, distinct from GOP orthodoxy. And those preferences mean that, in real and important ways, authoritarians are their own distinct constituency: effectively a new political party within the GOP.

This is what I said before. Not like I’m saying “I told you so,” or anything.

It’s just that we can’t understand what’s happening without trying to understand what’s happening. And this can mean uncomfortably confronting assumptions and learning about new models that fly in the face of these assumptions.

Don’t be afraid. They can smell your fear.

I totally recommend reading the full article on Vox. It’s long, but it’s worth it. And likely better than my tl;dr above. The Rise of American Authoritarianism, by Amanda Taub; published March 1, 2016.

Posted on by docthink 0

Wedded Abyss

FLOTUS and POTUS looking fly.

I hear that The Spouse and I look amazingly happy on Facebook. One friend asked me, “How could two people be so ‘lovey-dovey’?”

And I’m all like, “So you think I’m gonna to post pictures of us fighting?”

That would be the most vainglorious of selfies. Imagine me: eyes bulging, spit flying from angry lips, hair akimbo’d by angry electrical pulses emitting from my head? And The Spouse with a sneer, egging on my insane wrath with an infuriating indifference.

Yeah, let me just whip out the camera for that one.

Seriously, that day I yelled The Spouse out of the house? I’m running barefoot down the porch steps after the jeep, hurling profanity as it drives away leaving me standing in the middle of the street with no target for my denigration but plenty of fuel to continue the tirade.

Nope. No camera for that one either. And, let me tell you, if someone else filmed it, I sure as hell would not post it, tag us and type #LOL with a smiley emoji.

So, I can’t tell you if two people can have a sustained level of the “lovey-dovies.”
You never know what actually goes on between two people. We’ve had friends who shocked us all when they announced their divorce. Contrast that with me and The Spouse whose friends have likely been waiting on our announcement–all bets off for decades now.

Makes me think about the fetishized relationship between Michelle and Barack Obama. People project their ideals of a “good marriage” on the first couple. They’re so in love. They have a great relationship. They have such a great time together. Blah. Blah. Blah.

I expect that sometimes they disagree and may even find the other disagreeable. I bet that more than once someone has been accused by the other of being inconsiderate or even selfish. I would not be surprised if there’s an occasional few hours, or even few days, when iciness surrounds home and hearth, when two people are in the same room and are not together. Somebody may harbor uncharitable thoughts. Someone may even voice them.

Does that make the relationship a bad one? A good one? I don’t know, but it sounds like a real one.

I don’t want a marriage like the Obamas’–or anyone else’s. I have enough trouble with the one I have. The one that’s mine. That’s ours. That’ll do.

Posted on by docthink 0

Moving Day?

Oh Canada!

I’m hearing people on both sides of the political spectrum threatening to leave the U.S., if their nemesis candidate wins. Thought I’d give you some facts to prepare you for your move.

  1. Canadians have The Queen on their money. Americans like The Queen. And her corgis. And whatnot.James Bond and the Queen's corgis.
  2. Their Super Cute Prime Minister welcomes refugees from all over the world. He might even help you on with your jacket. It’s probably a good idea, though if you bring your own.
    Canadian Prime MInister Justin Trudeau helps a young refugee adjust to the cold Canadian climate.
  3. You can call them on their cell phone, but don’t ask them to teach you to dance. This is NOT a good look. Not even in Canada.
    Drake. Dancing poorly. Hotline Bling
  4.  The U.S./Canadian border is the longest border in the world. And the Canadians don’t even protect it. It’d probably be very easy for you to cross. The Mounties are more for show. They do look good, though, don’t they?
    RCMP, CHARGE!
  5. Even the sexiest man alive displays the modesty of his homeland. Those Canadians are just so darned nice, dagnabit.
    Ryan Gosling being Canadian-polite.
  6. Canada has no weapons of mass destruction. Well, that is if you don’t count Deadpool.
    Deadpool pulling out some weapons. (Played by Canadian Ryan Reynolds)
  7. Canadians are very cultured. Even hockey players can break into a broadway tune!

Hope this helps you through your angst. As an alternative, you can just figure out how to make your own country into the one you want. Like VOTE!

Vote in local and state elections. Vote for school board. Vote for city council. Vote for your state representatives, state senators, elected judges and attorneys general, and governor.

Vote for your federal officials. It counts.

A special note for Millennials. You now outnumber the old Baby Boomers. They are in charge, though, because they vote and you don’t. So VOTE!

You don’t want to have to learn the words to a new national anthem–in FRENCH! Think about it. And poutine is weird.

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