My seven year old daughter came home from school yesterday and announced at dinner that they have a new picture of Queen Elizabeth II on display in their classroom. I got caught off guard by The Question, but I did the best I could.
Jenny: Dad, is the Queen the boss of Canada?
Me: No, not really.
Jenny: So what is she then?
Me: Well, she’s the head of state, but it doesn’t mean anything because she has no powers.
Jenny: So who’s the boss, then?
Jenny: Who’s that?
Me: Not who, what. Parliament is a group chosen by the people to run the government.
Jenny: I don’t understand that stuff.
Wife: Neither does your father, honey. Eat your dinner.
When you’ve got the balls to strangle a heckler on national television and respond to weeping, burning-eyed protestors by saying they were lucky to be in a country that uses pepper spray instead of baseball bats to discourage them, you are simply the boss.
And his wife is pretty awesome, too. Not too many other heads of state can chase a burglar out of their home with an inuit carving.
Fuck, this is all coming back to me now. I’m have tempted to start a Jean Chretien appreciation thread. Too bad his politics stink.
I am the boss of Canada dammit…the country revolves around me…I control the money…that funky new ten…it’s my fault…in fact my middle name is Canada…errr to hell with it I can’t pull this off…I’m sorry I don’t control Canada…:slinks away in disgrace:…and to think I thought I could get away with it…
I, however, am the QUEEN of Canada! Oh wait, no, that would be Frankie’s friend Gordie. Too bad, Esprix! He’s not Asian and he hasn’t been a boy for quite a while! Okay, I guess I’m Princess of Canada. Hey, my family’s been here since 1810, that’s gotta make me SOME kind of royalty!