[quidnunc]

I recall a satirical article of yours published in the National Post some time ago, the subject of which was the “pride inspiring” Joe the Canadian beer ad. This one really sticks out in my mind because it was introduced to me by a wonderful English teacher of mine, and, it was the first time I took a close look at your work and discovered what a wonderful talent you have.  I can’t seem to dig it up anywhere, so if you wouldn’t mind dusting it off and posting it on the site, I’d love to read it again.

Andrew Marek
Saskatoon, Saskatchewan

My pleasure. In case you've forgotten, four years ago this ad prompted the biggest explosion of Canadian national pride since the boys returned from Vimy Ridge. The original ran as follows:

Hey, I’m not a lumberjack, or a fur trader.
And I don’t live in an igloo, or eat blubber, or own a dogsled.
And I don’t know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada, although I’m certain they’re really, really nice.
I have a Prime Minister, not a President.
I speak English and French, NOT American, and I pronounce it ‘ABOUT’, NOT ‘A BOOT’.
I can proudly sew my country’s flag on my backpack. I believe in peacekeeping, NOT policing. DIVERSITY, NOT assimilation.
AND THAT THE BEAVER IS A TRULY PROUD AND NOBLE ANIMAL.
A TOQUE IS A HAT, A CHESTERFIELD IS A COUCH, AND IT IS PRONOUNCED ‘ZED’ NOT ‘ZEE’, ‘ZED’!!!!
CANADA IS THE SECOND LARGEST LANDMASS! THE FIRST NATION OF HOCKEY! AND THE BEST PART OF NORTH AMERICA.
MY NAME IS JOE!!! AND I AM CANADIAN!!!!

Sounds even loopier now. But at the time our Heritage Minister flew down to Boston to play it to Americans so they'd understand us better. It was, in its way, more emblematic than they knew: the brand of beer it promoted, Molson Canadian, is considered too provocative to sell in Quebec. And the actor in the ad got a job offer from LA and immediately left the country. Here's my take on it:

[stylin_geek]

Bump for later read.

[Luke Skyfreeper]

My name is Joe and I am Canadian.

(all together now:)

"Hiiiii, Joe."

[Dinsdale]

Fifty first staters.

Premier stater cinquante.

[dts32041]

I am lumberjack and I"m OK

[Little Bill]

The best thing my Grandfather, ma's dad, did was get Yanktified and Sanctified. I asked him once why he never visitied relitives in Canada, Quote..."F##k them they know where I live".

A great guy, WWI vet, Canadian Scottish. I asked him why he was in a Canadian Scottish Regiment when he was Irish. Quote..." I got off a fishing boat in Halifax and got drunk the day that the war was declared, being young and stupid and not looking good in a dress, I was over come with patiotism, if I had to it over again I would have hid in the woods like the Frenchies.

[kitkat]

BUMP

[Qwinn]

"And the actor in the ad got a job offer from LA and immediately left the country."

ROFL. Says it all.

Qwinn

[Capt. Canuck]

Bad form old chap.

You made me think for a moment that Steyn had returned in some way to the NatPost.

This is just a reprint of a Steyn article in the NatPost in 2000 hosted on his website.

[joesnuffy]

Frostback Hosers

[Billthedrill]

I actually ran into the "I am Joe" screed on a table menu in Hooters in Vancouver BC a couple of days ago - hey, it was research, OK? The Canadian I was sitting with took a quick read, turned it face-down and said "Jesus, that's embarrassing."

Eh?

[Luis Gonzalez]

I never wanted to do this job in the first place!
I... I wanted to be...

A LUMBERJACK!

(piano vamp)

Leaping from tree to tree! As they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! With my best girl by my side!
The Larch!
The Pine!
The Giant Redwood tree!
The Sequoia!
The Little Whopping Rule Tree!
We'd sing! Sing! Sing!

Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay,
I sleep all night and I work all day.

CHORUS: He's a lumberjack, and he's okay,
He sleeps all night and he works all day.

I cut down trees, I eat my lunch,
I go to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays I go shoppin'
And have buttered scones for tea.

Mounties: He cuts down trees, he eats his lunch,
He goes to the lava-try.
On Wednesdays 'e goes shoppin'
And has buttered scones for tea.

CHORUS

I cut down trees, I skip and jump,
I like to press wild flowers.
I put on women's clothing,
And hang around in bars.

Mounties: He cuts down trees, he skips and jumps,
He likes to press wild flowers.
He puts on women's clothing
And hangs around.... In bars???????

CHORUS

I chop down trees, I wear high heels,
Suspendies and a bra.
I wish I'd been a girlie
Just like my dear papa.

Mounties: He cuts down trees, he wears high heels
Suspendies?? and a .... a Bra????
(spoken, raggedly) What's this? Wants to be a girlie? Oh, My!
And I thought you were so rugged! Poofter!

CHORUS

All: He's a lumberjack, and he's okaaaaaaayyy..... (BONG)

[timydnuc]

I have a son named Joe. He was born and raised as an American. My son named Joe is the pride of my life, his son is named Nick. I love them both. My son Joe will stand for this Republic and his son with the vengence and pride that is American, just as his father did in Viet Nam. My son, Joe, will stand and deliver for his son Nick. Thanks, Canada, but we have things under control.

[jocon307]

Quid, a goodie, for sure.

Molson Ice Rules, and I still mourn the death of John Candy, what more can I say eh?

[ApplegateRanch]

He wants to be prime minister, not president. A president is someone like Bill or Ron or Lyndon or Ike, who just decides one day he'd like to run the country.

That is because Joe does not have the right parents to be King.

Number Two spot is the best that is available to him; he can NEVER be Numero-Uno.

[NorthOf45]

That add is an albatross around our necks. I am embarrassed that it exists and in no way does it make me feel any national pride. In fact, it's part of the problem ... and the media just doesn't get it.

[Criminal Number 18F]

For a lot of Canadians, their whole national identity is "Not American."

They're never going to overcome that creeping feeling of inferiority until they look in and articulate some positive nationalistic stuff. As long as they define themselves by bitching about us, they're just gonna keep declining and bitching about us all the more.

I think Canadians were happier when their country was strong and was a valued party of the Anglosphere, not a somewhat careworn charity case. But the decline of their nation is an illustration of what happens to even a proud industrial nation when it goes full-throttle on a welfare state.

Ironically, the welfare state reaches a point where the small-w welfare of the supposed beneficiaries starts declining. Canada is in that position now.

d.o.l.

Criminal Number 18F

[Criminal Number 18F]

And no, I don't know Karla from Canada either, though I understand she'll be out in time to spend Canada Day at the lake. It's not policing, it's re-assimilation, OK?

Here Steyn is referring to Karla Homolka, one of the world's most egregious and sordid serial murderers, who escaped any possibility of an appropriate sentence by manipulating the notoriously soft (in all senses of the word) Canadian justice system. His Canadian readers would get the reference instantly.

Homolka and her husband Paul Bernardo were tried. Homolka cut a very favorable plea bargain. Only then did prosecutors discover that she had not only participated enthusiastically in the perverted sexual murders of a number of young girls, but they had her on videotape. Eh... that's a simplification. Their first victim was her kid sister... but hey, they didn't use any of those ugly Yank guns.

The Karla death pool ("When the game is over, we all win!")

Paul and Karla at crimelibrary.com. ("the Ken and Barbie of mayhem!")

d.o.l.

Criminal Number 18F

[ConservativeStLouisGuy]

I am Canadian, you nationalist Yank twit! - Mark Steyn, May 8th 2000

My name is Joe and I am Canadian. Actually, my name is Mark and I am Canadian. But Joe somehow sounds more archetypal, doesn't it? Joe Sixpack. Joe Schmoe. GI Joe. Well, okay, he's not Canadian but Somali Peacekeeper Joe, he's Canadian and you can buy him at all good stores, complete with insufficient accessories and outmoded vehicles.

On the subject of inadequate logistical support, don't forget Joe Who. He's quintessentially Canadian. Joe Who believes in peacekeeping, not policing. Diversity, not assimilation. He speaks English and French, not American. He doesn't live in an igloo, eat blubber or own a dogsled, though he's happy to give federal subsidies to those who do. He wants to be prime minister, not president. A president is someone like Bill or Ron or Lyndon or Ike, who just decides one day he'd like to run the country. Whereas a prime minister is a member of Parliament who can command a majority in the House of Commons, though Joe seems to have forgotten that bit. Joe took over the Conservative Party from Jean, who was so Canadian they called him Captain Canada. But now Jean's gone back to Quebec, where he can't afford to be too Canadian, otherwise he'll have even less chance of beating Lucien, who's definitely not Canadian, though he used to be back when he worked for Brian, who was far too American, especially when he was singing "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" with Ron.

And no, I don't know Sheila from Canada, although she sounds very nice and I'm sure she was politely received when she went down to Boston the other day to play Canadian beer commercials to Americans, because Americans are nice enough to put up with Canadians hectoring them about how much nicer than Americans Canadians are. I definitely don't know Preston or Stockwell from Canada, and frankly they sound positively unCanadian. I do know Svend. He's perhaps a tad too Canadian. But he's not a lumberjack or fur trader, unless it's uniforms night at the club.

All of these people would like to be my prime minister. Did I mention that I have a prime minister, not a president? Come to think of it, to be constitutionally pedantic for a moment, the Queen has a prime minister, and I have a Queen. Her name is Elizabeth and she's English. Well, okay, she's German-Scottish-Danish-Whatever, which sounds diverse, but unfortunately she's over-assimilated to the point where she appears insufficiently diverse to appeal to many of my diverse friends. She's not Canadian but she plays one on TV, opening the Commonwealth Games, giving speeches about diversity on Canada Day, etc. One day we'll get rid of Elizabeth and then we'll be even more Canadian! On the other hand, if we get rid of Elizabeth, we might be even more indistinguishable from you Americans. So most likely we'll keep her but continue not mentioning her very much, in our ambivalent, evasive, distinctively Canadian way. But, if we ever do get a president, you'll be the first to hear about it.

I also have a premier, the aforementioned Lucien. He's so unCanadian Molson doesn't bother running its Canadian ads here. Or sell its Canadian brand here, though you can get it in Vermont and Wales and Brazil. But being Canadian is all about the right not to drink Canadian beer in Canada's second-largest province. And anyway I could have a premier like Mike. Mike wants us to recite the oath of allegiance in school every morning. Some of us don't want to do it because a pledge of allegiance is too American. And the rest of us don't want to do it because the person we're swearing allegiance to is too British. But, whatever our differences, our not wanting to do it binds us as Canadians. Unless we're in Quebec, where it binds us as Quebecers.

And no, I don't know Karla from Canada either, though I understand she'll be out in time to spend Canada Day at the lake. It's not policing, it's re-assimilation, OK?

Did I mention it's called Canada Day? Except in Quebec, where it's called La fete du Canada. Well, to be honest, in Quebec it's not called anything, but, thanks to federally-funded bilingual posters, it's called La fete du Canada in Saskatchewan and British Columbia. That's because we Canadians speak English and French, not American. Go on, test me. Canada Post. Postes Canada. RCMP. GRC. One dollar. Un dollar. This message brought to you by Heritage Canada. Ce message est, er, arrive chez, um, vous par Patrimoi... okay, I'm still having problems with that one. But it's called a loonie, not a 65-cent nickel.

And I can proudly sew my country's flag on my backpack. That's because, even though I'm a beer-guzzling hockey fan, I took sewing classes in Canada's non-gender-stereotyping school system. Now all I need is the flag. I ordered it from Sheila, when she was giving out free flags a year or two back, but she said allow 24-36 months for delivery.

Incidentally, Sheila would look good in a tuque. A tuque is a hat, from the French "toque." But, although I pronounce it "about," not "aboot," I say "tuque," not "toque." Don't piss me off by saying there's something you like aboot my toque, instead of about my tuque, okay? And if you come to the Genie Awards wear a toox not a tux, and then you'll look like a stylish man aboot town. About toon. And it's pronounced zed. Not zee. Zed. And it's "centre," not "center," as in Eaton Centre, not Wal-Mart, OK? I am completely, distinctively, uniquely Canadian in every way, except for my pronunciation of the word "about," which is the one aspect of me indistinguishable from you Americans. You say about and I say about, to paraphrase Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in their famous culturally imperialistic Hollywood duet about calling the whole thing off. Amen to that, brother. And no, I can't play the song. It's called Canadian Content regulations, okay? So here's Patsy Gallant singing "From New York To LA".

And if you're after someone with a great toque, count me out. Try the consort of George V and world-famous toque wearer in her day, Queen Mary. Formerly Princess May of Teck, and no doubt a proudly diverse, unassimilated Teckian, or Teckene, or Teckie. Remind me to check with a spokesperson from the Tecko-Canadian community. And a Teckie is not to be confused with a Trekkie, which is a term used to designate fans of William Shatner, a great Canadian who boldly went where no Canadian had gone before. That's outer space, not America, you nationalistic Yank moron.

And I watch "Star Trek" reruns on my chesterfield. Also, Oprah, Jay, Dave, Regis, all of whom are American, and so is the Beaver, a proud and noble sitcom I still see occasionally when I stagger back home at 4 in the morning and collapse on the chesterfield too drunk to find the remote and Channel 173 is in the middle of its weekend-long Beav marathon in Hispanic. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't rather be watching "Da Vinci's Inquest" reruns in Nunavut. And at least I'm a chesterfield potato, not a couch potato. Chesterfield, OK? Named after the Earl of Chesterfield, whoever the hell he is. Probably not Canadian, or Jean would have vetoed it, like he did with Conrad, who's still Canadian unfortunately, though not the kind of Canadian we had in mind when we said you had to be Canadian to own all the newspapers in Canada.

Canada is the second-largest land mass, the first nation of hockey and the best part of North America, and just because those of us in the second-largest land mass live in the tiny strip of it abutting the worst part of North America doesn't mean we want to go to Denver and Nashville and San Diego to see our hockey teams, OK?

And I drink Molson, which is a Canadian beer. And, as a Canadian, I know enough about beer not to drink Bud and that other American crap, though not enough about beer to drink anything English, Irish, Belgian, German or Scandinavian. But, if you drink enough Molson, eventually even Canada makes sense.

Yessir, my name is Joe and I'm so Canadian I'm off to spend Victoria Day in Havana!

________________________

quidnunc,

Thanks for posting this! Even though the article is nearly four years old it is a GREAT tongue-in-cheek explanation of some of the terminology up here in Canada (eh!)

Posted in full for the ages -- and for my Canadian/American friends (who I email regularly) to read...

"Thou Shalt Not Unncessarily Excerpt" - 11th FReeper Commandment.

FReegards,

- ConservativeStLouisGuy