Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Dopamine Party? Not so much.

whatever this is aka cottage cheese (high-protein) no-flour pumpkin loaf, lol. 

I believe it was Homer Simpson who said, "the first step to failing is trying." ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Constructing

iron wheels waiting in
my son's yard for something more

My son works in the trades. He builds things, always has. It's about math and physics for him. First he obsessed about Lego, then wood, then technology, then guitar, then sheet metal, then iron. My favourite of his creations? He welded an iron bird house, lol. The humour's mine, but the skill? It's genetic, thanks to my Dad. 

I've welded exactly zero projects, so I guess that means it skipped a generation? Not really, I build things with words (and sometimes other ingredients too). The grandfather, this father, the son—our default mode is creative but preferred mediums are personal.

Why this craving? It's a problem-solving fixation. Like my Dad, my son applies this skill to things, then enjoys that accomplished feeling. Similarly, I like to apply problem-solving to ideas and behaviours. If you read this blog, my (over) thinking obsession with comprehending this confusing world might be obvious. So...if you're still reading this, I applaud you. 🤣

I mention this because I just finished reading The Molecule of More. The molecule in question? Dopamine. The book clarifies the difference between dopamine and those other handy brain chemicals/hormones: serotonin, oxytocin, endorphins. In a nutshell, the latter three are here-and-now orientated whereas dopamine is future orientated. Hence the first three react to novelty and affect daily mood. They are released when we experience those so-called little things in life: walking in the sunshine, petting a purring cat, and a spicy chai latte. But dopamine? It's about anticipation.

Dopamine motivates us to leverage resources to achieve/complete something pleasurable, something not yet attained, something more. Dopamine is all those coins Mario collects BUT especially leveling up. It drives addiction and creativity and it is both taxing and gratifying. Furthermore, some brains are apparently wired to be more here-and-now while others are dopamine forward: my father, me, my son. That's why completing this paragraph—after much drafting, re-reading, redrafting, and revising—provided the dopamine hit I sought. I hope that makes sense. 

A final detail about the book: there's a chapter on harmony and what we should know about dopamine and mental health. Not surprisingly, we need a balance between here-and-now needs and future-orientated wants. Guess what occupation most helps us humans achieve that? Construction. Essentially, although our brains default to dwell in immediate rest, relaxation, and delight, it's being productive that promises more durable happiness. 

Dear blogger friends/creatives, it seems to me that this is why we blog. As we react/write/sort/tell about the (chaotic) here and now, it helps us construct a hoped-for future. 

What are you constructing?

A Real Slice?

When life gives you melons, maybe you're dyslexic?

Sorry.

It's a remarkably large watermelon though, isn't it? Some might even say, uh, one-in-a-melon. 

Sorry. 

Gotta go eat watermelon; no more melondrama. 😜

Thursdays

Recently, thanks to another blogger, I experienced the "psychological relief" of learning the oh-so-apt name for what we're all experiencing in the 20s: hypernormalization. This is that feeling of dread and powerlessness that permeates our modern lives as we endure daily chaos written off by those in power as uh, I don't know, Thursday, so we square our shoulders, endure, and continue our daily lives amidst the pervasive instability, because uh, what the hell can we really do about it anyway? Sigh. 

So I'm taking a break, sort of a psychological relief break. Let me explain. 

While watering the front garden yesterday, a butterfly landed on me. Oddly, I gasped. I think I reacted this way because it's very 2025 to deem this incident as the ominous opening "butterfly effect" to yet another shitshow. But no. Just what I needed, it took me out of my head. I love it when nature taps me on the shoulder. Delightful. 

Despite everything, what else is delightful? Let's go there. 

Words. Words are delightful. So is corn-on-the-cob and trees and the northern lights and ice cream and garden spaces and when women wear kilts in curling competitions and wedding vows and music and art and the human eye (each so startlingly unique and beautiful) and history class and movies and hilarious one-liners and Lego and librarians and architects and artists and writers and ee cummings and books so moving they shouldn’t end and deep-fried fish and chips and Scotland and Ireland and the Maritimes and Montreal and the wide Saskatchewan horizon line and waving grain and frogs and northern Alberta’s long, long summer days and a freshly painted room and golden hour and watching people open presents and (controversial) tuna casserole and The Swedish Chef and bork bork bork and making cupcakes and cookies and giving them away and haircuts and sleeping in and lavender and poppies and rabbits and snowmobiling and skiing and long walks and picking saskatoons and wood furniture and my bed and my house and my flat-cap and CBC radio and sudden rain and sticky-note pads and my grandkids and the countless ways my spouse, my children, and their children enrich and fortify my ordinary (extraordinary) life, and friends too, playing dice or Ticket-to-Ride or texting memes and when human facades fade and when we admit our stupidity and interdependence and people who don’t condemn others and don't complain just for the sake of complaining and people who understand being neighbourly and Dolly Parton and nurses and people who care for the elderly and my past and present teachers and every teacher my kids ever had and grandmothers and people who snowplow or can fix your AC and people committed to improving the world peacefully and self-deprecating people and comedians and unifiers and people who volunteer and people who are honest, people who encourage without ulterior motives and especially how sometimes the world seems to conspire to make me butterfly happy and oh ya, run-on sentences—I love run-on sentences too.

Dear friends, there is also psychological relief in naming what you delightfully love. Even on Thursdays. Sigh, it's often impossible to love what's going on in the world, but we can love our way through it. Right? 

Help Yourself.

Thanks, Grandma. 

My life-long relationship with food? Dysfunctional. Someday we may delve into that topic. 

Anyway, current status? Complicated, and healthy-ish, but perhaps not in the (caloric) way you might be thinking. Let me explain.

A Gen X kid (aka 8/10 times without parents), I taught myself how to "cook" all the 70s-80s savory classics: mostly fish sticks, oven fries, KD, tuna casserole, chili, and other box/ package/ can-opener inspired meals. (I still firmly believe that most meals should be cooked in one pot and eaten as leftovers for days.) Except for rice-Krispie squares—marshmallows are fun to melt—childhood me never learned to cook anything sweet.

 

After years of attempting to feed my kids (no comparison to my wife's abilities), cut to becoming an empty-nester (about a decade ago). Equipped with more time, knowledge, and skills than childhood me, I decided to join that elusive club of people who made food others actually enjoyed. In most cases, people ate my culinary concoctions with more resignation than reverie. So, always a creative, I began to experiment. I failed. I succeeded. I learned how to make chocolate-chip cookies that are infinitely more popular than I am. 

And that's it. Insert record-scratch sound here. I perfected these cookies and that's all I made for years; it's still my go-to. I call my recipe, 'Small Cookies are Stupid,' because they are. 

But this taught me something more meaningful than recipes. Cooking sweets for others boosts my mental health. My cookies make people happy; happy is not my default mode, but making people happy? Pure dopamine. 

Cut to the pandemic. Remember those tragic and trying 24 months when most humans became more we-orientated than I-orientated? But then thanks to politics and social media 30% of humans went batshit? Sigh. Who didn't need extra dopamine during those days? So I mastered my Grandma's cupcake recipe. And gave them away again and again and again; I made them for my own birthday party this week. Why? Gifting cupcakes boosts my personal growth, and increases my life's purpose and meaning. It bolsters my self-acceptance. It lifts my heart too. In short, everyone is rewarded; IT'S A DOPAMINE PARTY!

Dear friends, happiness is fleeting. But mastering something simple and sharing it with others? Help yourself. 

Imagine a hammer.

Imagine a hammer. Now think history. What were the very first hammers like? What were they used for? To build up or to tear down? To bust or to beat? Although the modern hammer’s design is much improved, its function remains mostly the same. We can use a hammer two ways:

• constructively or
• destructively. 

I was quite young the first time I used a hammer. And despite my youth, immediately I knew the hammer's power: I could smash anything! Especially my fingers. I knew the frustration when I missed the nail yet again. After dropping the hammer on my toes, and off the side of a building under construction, I knew the true weight of a hammer. I know the exhaustion of using a sledge hammer and the satisfying way it cements things together. I know the power I wield swinging a hammer. But I was in my late 20s when a tradesman taught me precision: where to place my hand on the hammer's hand and to position my thumb on the back of the hammer to improve my aim; he essentially made the hammer and extension of my arm. There is always more to learn. 

It seems to me that there are plenty of lessons in a hammer. Perhaps the best is Abraham Maslow’s lesson. In his ground-breaking book about positive human psychology, he quite famously wrote, “I suppose it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail.”

Everything in this complex world is not necessarily a nail. And we need not always choose the same tools. 

Maybe there’s a different way to think about things? Maybe ______ is not so simple? Maybe ______ is not so black and white? Maybe you haven't completely figured out ______? Maybe your toolbox is missing something? Think about history again. Our firmly held beliefs were false: the world was flat, doctors need not wash their hands, women should not have the right to vote, left-handedness should be "corrected." All these were once "common sense."  

Some people claim to have all the answers (and they often refer to it as common sense). I have always been wary of these people. No one knows all the answers. No one. Not you, nor I. Especially if all you have is a hammer. 

One more thing: this is not about hammers. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

🤯

Does the internet know about hot-dog pasta?

Probably. But I didn't. And I still don't (because I'm a baby and I didn't eat it). 

No judging (but kinda judging): IMO hot-dogs should only be coupled with buns and/or baked beans aka wieners and beans. 

Thoughts? 

Things one should never outgrow?

L😍

My grandson is almost two. His vocabulary? Incredible. He can sing the A-B-C song AND Bridge Over Troubled Waters, lol. 

I am not kidding. 

And then there's his enunciation. Impressive, but still developing. Here's what happened:

We were together on the back deck at his parent's home, just us, blowing bubbles and singing songs and reading books. In other words, doing what this toddler and this Grandpops enjoy doing together. 

Suddenly, he yelled, "MURDER!PSYCHO!" 

Startled, I asked, "What?!"

He repeated himself and pointed into the backyard, "MURDER!PSYCHO!" 

As I contemplated what might possibly be going through his mind, his 4-year old sister joined us on the deck from the backyard. Barely noticing her, I made eye-contact with my grandson; bewildered (yet also impressed), I asked him slowly, "L, are you saying murder psycho?"

Unconcerned and a bit slower, he repeated himself for me, "MURDER! PSYCHO!" Then his sister quickly translated, "motor cycle, Pops." 

Let me explain: his backyard is completely fenced in and set back safely from a fairly busy roadway, but louder vehicles occasionally disrupt the peace, especially his favourite vehicles. 

Days later, I am still laughing and I can't wait to enjoy a lifetime of hearing/mishearing his excited thoughts. 

Also this: when did we outgrow randomly yelling the names of things we love? I say my grandson can teach us all how to love life: ICE CREAM! GOLDEN HOUR! BOOKS! GRANDKIDS! DEMOCRACY! 🤣🤔

Things that deserve the stink-eye?

Our lovely river curves like a smile (and a wink). 

What's it like living in Northern Canada?

1. Cool winds are not unusual, even in May. Canadians know that if you wait for shorts weather, your patience will wither. (Just roll with it.) 

2. In 19/20 Canadian locations, the wilderness is rarely more than a five minute walk, in any direction. (Just get your boots on.)

3. Like all the countries I've visited (Italy, Greece, Scotland, and Ireland, to name a few), Northern Canada is just as beautiful as anywhere else in the world, but admittedly, a little rustic here and there. Example? Although our river is currently high enough to hide it, there's an old van (yes, a van*) under those ripples. (Just don't look too closely.) 

(Fl)awesomeness beats perfection. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

*Thankfully, no one was hurt.

FOMO

Our precocious, fast-moving
youngest granddaughter, I. 

Although my grandchildren's personalities are unique (and in development), they all seem to display one common trait: FOMO. 

It's the reason they're so disarming. 

I love it when all three grandkids are together with us, but let's just say I am the JOMO to their FOMO. So when they wiggle their way into my lunch, my laptop, my life... I am summarily overwhelmed and yet also joyously powerless to resist them, similar to Elizabeth Olsen's vibe in this puppy interview, lol. I recall a comedian once remarking that he had no idea that parenting his first toddler would be similar to living with his university roommate if said roommate were drunk 24/7. To hell with boundaries, amirite?

Oh sure, I know how to to gently redirect and distract when necessary, for their safety, for their education, etc. etc.... but at this stage in my life I avoid imposing myself. Why? We earned it: grandparents often take advantage of the privilege to laugh about it and let their parents figure it out. But the real reason? These kids are the nervous system reboot I never knew I needed right now in my life; like the Grinch, they make my heart grow three sizes, minimum. 

Currently, my youngest granddaughter is the perfect age for this puppy-like pandemonium, so that's why I thought she needed to celebrate the way she jumps into life (and off the slide) with both feet; hence, she has her very own FOMO been-there, done-that, bought the t-shirt t-shirt. 

Things one should never outgrow:

new ingredients.

It may surprise you, but that's turnip. This humble vegetable is a staple in Scotland, and thus it reminds me of my grandparents, so I use turnips in savory recipes often. When I discovered turnip is the main ingredient IN A CAKE (Spiced Neeps Traybake from The Scottish Cookbook), I felt compelled to master this recipe.  

Similar to carrot cake's texture, it's an absolute hug of a cake: a warm combination of cinnamon, ginger, and orange zest. Would my Grandma be impressed? I picture her smiling at me so, of course; I could do no wrong. 

Speaking of new ingredients, Canada is choosing a new Prime Minister today and a new federal government. Advanced voting suggests Canadians are engaged in what many tout as the most important election of our lives. It's true; the next four years will be no cake walk.   

My ideal Canadian leader was Terry Fox; although his shoes are impossible to fill, the leader Canadians choose today also faces a marathon. So my hope is that we choose a leader with the right ingredients, like Terry—courage, compassion, determination, perseverance, humility—a leader committed not to advancing himself, but to maintaining what we cherish and facilitating change that improves the lives of others. Plus, a leader who brings new ingredients like experience, knowledge, imagination, and finally, a leader who aims to unite us, a leader we can trust. Who is this leader? He's the opposite of the US president. 

Things that deserve the stink eye?

Looks like this cheeky kid/sidewalk artist was having a lousy day. 

One can only imagine what prompted this child's affront, but no judging: we all need a pep talk occasionally. Perhaps this child would benefit from Moira Rose's special brand of parenting? 🤣

Gaffe-able?

This meme triggered a memory. 

Once, while walking through a park, a person I know appeared from around a corner on the other side, walking opposite to me. There was some distance between us, but upon recognizing each other, we waved and she yelled, “You look great!” 

Surprised, I lifted my shoulders a little higher, and yelled back, “Thanks! You made my day. You look great too!” 

We continued walking, but I noticed her head tilt to one side; she seemed to be staring at me. I thought, wow, I’m pretty hot today, I guess? 

Soon we were directly across from each other, and that’s when she said, smiling, “I think you misheard me; I said you look late.” 

We laughed and laughed. For a while, whenever we saw each other, we would greet each other with this inside joke, “You look great!” And chuckle again. 

Remembering this, I wonder...perhaps the secret to happiness is 1) age-related hearing loss; 2) a heaping helping of self-delusion? Or perhaps happiness is the human connection formed when 3) we laugh at our gaffes? AKA being gaffe-able (gaffe + affable). 😜

Things one should never outgrow:

Thanks, M. 

unicornory. 

While waiting for her birthday party guests to arrive, my oldest granddaughter enjoyed some spontaneous dancing in the backyard, adorned with her spanky new unicorn rubber boots. 

Scotland's national animal, the Scots love the unicorn for its untamable independence and for being notoriously difficult to capture or conquer. 

That's reason enough to respect this mythical creature, but inspired by my granddaughter I am also learning "unicornory" which I define as the way a 4-year-old reminds me to pay attention to and enjoy life's simple pleasures: sunshine, warmth, music, laughter, sparkles inside your birthday cake, being together, and being alive for this one unconquerable life. 

Playlist

Is your playlist doing its job?

Playlists are personal. I'm hesitant to even write about mine. People get judgy about song choices. Sigh. I could attempt to explain mine: um, maybe eclectic? Catchy? Genre-bending? Silly? Vapid? Rebellious? Deep? Sad? Yes, all of those. Imagine everything from Joni Mitchell to the Muppets, from Dance to Dolly Parton. Insert shrug emoji here.

My main criteria? An emotional reaction (typically mirth or melancholy).  Bonus criteria? Goosebumps. 

We all know goosebumps: the body releases adrenalin, muscles involuntarily contract and force body hair to stand upright, indentations patterned across the skin. Science says this occurs due to cold, or a reaction to stimuli (fear, attraction, sadness, joy...). Whatever the reason, think about it: our bodies are trying to help us survive. And that's what a playlist can do: enliven us when we're struggling. It's a mental health buoy. 

Science (Daniel J. Levitin) says we humans enjoy a special relationship with music. Unlike other stimuli, it triggers multiple effects in both hemispheres all across our brains including language, emotion, memory, even physiological responses like that overwhelming desire to move “to the beat.” It releases the feel good hormones and affects blood pressure, body temperature, even metabolism. But for what purpose? 

Despite my amateur scientist status, I know the answer; obviously, it's preparing us for that inevitable crucial music-related battle we must all face at some point in our lives: the dance off. Amirite?

I jest, kinda. Music is similar to humour. Music changes channels. Introduce a song to whiny toddlers and suddenly they get their happy on. It's more than humour though. Think about how that song at the funeral pushed open the rusty gate in your heart. 

Alerted by adrenalin, music jolts us from simply existing, shocks us more fully into life, both the joys and the pains. Music speaks truth better than we can: it invokes our deeper feelings, the ones we may not even realize. One amazing song can help us problem-solve, feel less alone; it can provide some new or renewed perspective, it can open a vulnerable conversation, it can heal. Music pushes our buttons and, goosebumped, even our skin can’t hide the transformation.   

What song does the job for you? 

That 10%

My favourite Father's Day cards, lol.

If you're a parent, you've heard this statistic: "90% of the time you will ever spend with your children happens during their first 18 years." I've been in the latter 10% zone for several years now and missing them today, I have thoughts:

It's true. Everyone knows time is a thief and yet we still let it pillage willy-nilly. 

This is a relationship, like all relationships: trust, honesty, respect, boundaries. 

Less saviour, more listener. 

Fact: you're not the same. Live with it and learn from it. 

You will always worry, but don't make this about you.  

This relationship is both timeworn and contemporary. You've both made mistakes. Let shit go and shut up. 

Don't leave the loving things unsaid and let your actions speak too. 

Continue to pay attention, hear, love. 

Be available. Don't hover. Jump at opportunities to make new memories together whether that's as simple as cleaning the garage together or a trip to Mexico (and everything in between). 

Check yourself for updates aka use this extra time to become a better parent/person. 

It does not matter your age; everyone needs someone who believes in them. 

Divorce, eh?

an apt depiction of two wonderful
countries who don't quite match,
 but do fit together source 

Divorce. It's an abstract concept, for me. Sure, family and friends in our circle are divorced but neither my spouse nor I grew up in a home with divorced parents. So when people ask, what does it feel like to be a Canadian right now, I imagine it's like divorce. 

Let's be honest, Canada was never legally married to the USA but we were in a pretty high-functioning common law relationship, a contract that both parties signed. Truth be told, we don't quite match, but we made it work, even enjoyed the relationship. Sure, we are clearly the beta in this couple and at times, you may have taken advantage of that (Canadian energy) but for the most part, we truly loved each other. Maybe we still do? But what's that cliché about relationships? Love is never enough. 

Turns out that's true. Canada never asked for this divorce, but it's happening. And here we are. One toxic partner continually makes demands. So we meet them, or try to, even when we all know some are bullshit (the fentanyl crisis at Canadian border). Our representatives (political leaders) negotiate, bend over backwards, and indeed make some changes. But it's not working....

Why? Despite a desire to remain partners in some form at least, one partner continually employs all the toxic relationship playbook classics: accuses us of cheating, makes unfair demands, belittles our representatives, limits contact, lies, plays the victim, gaslights, makes us feel unsafe, uses social media to demean and threaten us.... 

A relationship can't exist without trust, honesty, and respect, can it? Temporarily, perhaps. But eventually....

We're stronger than we were a few weeks ago. We're changing. We're more united (9/10 Canadians!) We're making new plans. Nevertheless, it's been a sad month. I really do mean that. But to use a clever line from that American culture once so beloved to us, "bye Trump Felicia." 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Let's be honest:

A good friend's husband died earlier this month, an absolute blindside.
Still thinking about these wise words: painful, hopeful, honest.
Also thinking about others I'm missing. No doubt, you too?
For whatever might be ailing you today, I hope these words find you. 

Fullness

P 💞 L 

Weeks ago, I intended to write about our January holiday to Mexico, but life interrupted things. 

Travel makes me grateful and reflective but I need time to process all that discovery and restorative-ness. 

This trip we traveled with our daughter, her husband, his parents and our grandchildren. Imagine. 

There are stories to tell about French fries and puffer fish and a margarita stand, but mostly there was precious time to play with our favourite grandtoddlers, 3 year-old M and 1 year-old L. And although there are many impressive photos of the beach and sunsets and an excursion to a tiny island and a burrito bigger than a birthday cake, I keep returning to pictures of my daughter with her children, and this one with her young son. 

It's impossible to accurately describe the feeling of watching your children be parents to their own children: it's joy, it's pride, it's time-travel, it's nostalgia, it's laughter, it's longing, it's...peace...it's a fullness...(it's fleeting and forever) and I wish it for everyone. 

Would I steer you wrong?

I suspect I'm not the only highland steer who
feels that reading the daily news requires horns.

Nope. 😜

Happy Robbie Burns Day, dear friends. This charming artwork hangs in my son's bathroom and it makes me smile every time. 

For supper tonight I made my version of Scotch Broth, a hearty pearl barley soup with turnips, onions, and carrots. For Christmas, I gifted myself The Scottish Cookbook (by Coinneach MacLeod, the Hebridean Baker) so I'm hoping to expand my Scottish cooking beyond soup, shortbread, and scones. One more thing: although I'm not much of a drinker, I do have a favourite Scotch, Dalwhinnie. It's warm and sweet like caramel, but a bit spicy with a hint of smoke too. 

Whether you celebrate or not, Lang may yer lum reek. Slàinte mhath!

Abc?

I love the way text structures are evolving and new genres are emerging in the book world. 

Thanks to NGS, I read Alphabetical Diaries by Sheila Heti (c) 2024, a great example of this evolution. 

In alphabetical order, each chapter features highlights from the author's journal curated into a narrative both disassembled and threaded in curious ways. With all due respect, it's a bit ADHD yet (surprisingly) each sentence, like jigsaw puzzle pieces, eventually connects elsewhere, establishing character, plot, and themes I think many women would relate to. It's also a narrative about being a writer and that's the aspect I most connected with. 

Inspired, I searched my 2024 iPhone journal and chose these entries from A to Zed. 

Is it too random, or can you infer connections?

Almost 9 and everyone's still sleeping except us. Babies have surgery. Cried through the last chapter. Dreamed I was in a drawing class with Lynn who died in 2020. Edmonton Oilers kicking ass. Funeral today and I will always regret not being there. Grandkids arrive tomorrow! Happy New Day. I have the Lego bride and groom ready! Jesus, where is my passport? Keep imagining Sisyphus happy. Love my daughter's haircut; hate her boss. Maybe don't listen to your unreliable inner narrator? Not impressed with the Connections puzzle today. Our tongues are not normal, son. Pita Pizzas, yum. Quiet, soft, floating snow. Ready for this day with you. She told me she's afraid of the 'Backson' from Winnie the Pooh. Trying to draw different types of owls and texting grandturkey pics with my childhood friend: priceless. Unscrupulous people gonna unscrup-you/us. Very uncomfortable watching these election results. World is so fucked up, but I bet if someone started playing, "you are my sunshine" on a subway, everyone would sing along. X-ray results good! You must not forget that time a random baby waved at you in the grocery store. Zone of Interest (and its compelling use of sound) gripped me and begged me not to deaden myself to the world. 

Nows

That forest-canopy feeling should be 
experienced every once in a now.

From a conversation I had today...

Her face puzzled, she asked, "don't you mean once in a while?"

Curious, I replied, "what did I say?"

"You said once in a now." 

I smiled, "that's actually better. Why wait?"

Sometimes malapropisms improve on the original. And then later today, while walking, I remembered something poet-marvel Emily Dickinson wrote: "forever is composed of nows." 

Wise words, indeed.  

So friends, what might you stop waiting for and enjoy every once in a now? 

Things that deserve the stink-eye

 

via GIPHY (the sign for idiot)

Oh, today's news. The incoming US Liar-in-Chief continues to muse about annexing Canada...hence the sign above. (Insert eye roll here.)

Historians may know that Americans tried this once before: the War of 1812. And yes, some argue this war was just a leveraging technique against Britain. Considering US history, that's understandable. But the outcome? Pretty much nothing, although the Canadians (technically referred to as British loyalists at that time), burned The White House in retaliation for US troops burning a portion of York (present-day Toronto). Oh, and there was an unintended outcome: it galvanized those British Loyalists and helped forge a Canadian identity. (Insert maple leaf here.)

Is today's news another leveraging technique? Probably...but this time more for his amusement, I guess? Something else he obviously doesn't understand or care about: since the 1800s, US & Canadian citizens have shared a border with no major conflicts, whatsoever. We've been friends for centuries, supporting each other in world conflicts. Remember 911? To me, that's more important than today's anti-democratic pissing-contest nonsense, likely to be continued for the next four years ad nauseum. Sigh. Dear US friends, hang in there. 

Also, GARDYLOO.