I have a theory.

Whiskey, neatOkay, I have a lot of theories, and I try the patience of my long-suffering friends by expounding on them, often over whiskey (neat), sometimes while one or another of those long-suffering friends keeps me from plunging sideways into a bonfire or through a coffee table.  Even when generously marinated in Ireland’s finest, I exhibit perspicacity and blarney than amuses more often than it angers.  At least, that’s how I choose to  remember it in the clear light of day.  It is the only explanation for my continued rescue from the fate that awaits those who are unrestrained in both consumption of whiskey and expression of half-baked opinions, though perhaps I should give more credit to the kind natures and loving hearts of my friends.

But this is one pet theory I’ve cherished for almost a decade, and I think it’s ready for the slightly more public forum of the world wide web.  I’m not sure the world – and, in particular, Canadians – are ready for this; it’s controversial, it’s going to inflame strong opinions and, no doubt, passionate debate.  So, before I go on, I implore you to keep it civil in the comments.

My friends in the United States may not be aware of this, but in Canada, ‘north’ is a place the is completely subject to interpretation.  To some people, mostly Torontonians, I live in the north, even though I’m actually more eastish in relation to them.  To me, Sudbury and North Bay is the real, no-foolin’ north (it even says so in the name), and Thunder Bay has true northiness.  But what I rarely stop to consider (and I think my southern Ontario neighbours are with me on this one), is that most of Canada is north of all of the places I’ve named, and that actually none of them are even north of the 49th parallel.  Kapuskasing mocks the northiness of Thunder Bay, and Nunvavut sits secure in the knowledge of being the northest of us all.

So, to simplify; people think we’re all north in Canada, we think we’re all north, and everyone north of each of us thinks everyone south of them is the southiest.  Add to that the idea that being a southern Canadian is like having cooties forever, and then being a southern Ontarian is like cooties to the power of infinity.  We’re lame.  We’re not aware of how lame we are, but everyone else in Canada knows it like they know where you get a double-double and where you buy a two-four.

But the North, oh that mystical place of story and song, ski-doo and caribou; it gets into the blood of the Southerners that go there and sits as an ever-present longing to go back to the North.  I see the far-off look in the eyes of my friends, and I know they’re thinking about the North.  Their voices get soft and their expressions get dreamy.  And in my heart, I think I get it, how a country can be so alien to your experience and yet feel so much like home.

I’ve never been to the North, but I’m with them in spirit.  Except for one thing.

MooseMoose.

For a long time, I didn’t believe in moose; I thought they were the emperor’s new clothes.  Yeah, I’ve met people who say they’ve seen moose (mostly musicians, and you know how they are).  Hell, I even been told I’m eating moose (tastiest figment of someone else’s imagination ever).  But for a long time I figured it was like the Blarney Stone; originally a joke played on the British oppressors by the subjugated Irish, it turned into a fine way to make a punt.  I thought that what the Blarney Stone was to the Irish, the moose was to Northerners; a wink and a nudge, and a bit of a laugh at the expense of gullible Southerners.  Yes, I’ve seen pictures, but I’ve also seen footage of the moon landing in 1969 and the Fiji mermaid.  And if that’s not enough to tell you that there are complex and nefarious conspiracies at work to manipulate us daily, then please remember that Keanu Reeves had an acting career.

After a time, I realized that this was bigger than just some fun at the expense of Southerners.  There are pictures everywhere.  The moose has become almost as recognizable a Canadian icon as the beaver.  Thousands of people claim to have seen moose majestically tramping across the northlands.  It didn’t take me too long to put two and two together – and when I did, I was more disturbed and unsettled than ever.  Since then, I’ve made it my mission to ensure that whenever the topic of the moose is broached, I try to make sure people know the truth.

So brace yourselves: moose aren’t animals.  They’re robots.  Developed in secret by CSIS, moose patrol our northern borders spying on the activities of the Russians, the USA, and any other unCanadian activities hovering around our northernmost border.

Think about it!  How perfect a defense system that masquerades as a relatively harmless mammal?  Who watches the moose?  Besides naturalists, I mean.  But look for yourselves – the way they move, almost too graceful.  The awkward construction of their bodies.  Those giants antlers!  Are there more perfect antennae to send and receive communications?  Did nature make an animal with a satellite dish on its head?  I think not.

But Candace, I hear you saying, moose have been around for thousands of years, they are in many parts of the world, and have been a part of indigenous cultures as food/clothing/etc.  Exactly!  Now you’re starting to grasp the scope of this vast Canadian Conspiracy!

You see, CSIS aren’t just some bumbling bunch of sweet Canadian semi-spies; they’re a dazzlingly powerful and surprisingly technologically advanced super-power, seamlessly controlling the fate of the world via time travelling moose robots.  When you begin to consider, the pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly.  How is it possible that Canada, with its abundant natural resources and pot-smoking, free-loving socialist hippie health care has been allowed to stand relatively unmolested for so long?  You can see that over the past 200 years the United States have been eyeing up our true north strong and free like a frat boy gazing at a fresh keg.  How has a country with the world’s largest standing army held off on a second invasion?

I’ll tell you why: they’re afraid of our moose-robots.  Last time they crossed our borders with expansionist intentions, we whupped ’em.  We burned the original White House down and pushed their troops back all the way to New Orleans.  If you don’t think the moose-robots played a part in that, you’re buying in to the Federalist agenda to deceive, inveigle and obfuscate.  Why else would such a great country appear so much on the national stage as a pack of buffoons or, at best, your pot-smoking middle brother who lives in your parent’s basement, breaking up family fights but otherwise kinda lounging?

Stephen Colbert with a moose-robot.It’s all a ruse; far from being one of the most peaceful nations on earth, Canada is in fact the puppetmaster.

Even Stephen Colbert, himself a high-ranking NSA official, paid homage to our mighty moose-robots recently during his time at the Vancouver Olympics.  Let me tell you, they’re scared, torn between fear and desire.  The look at our tasty fresh water, our rolling acres of pot and lumber, our beautiful gay weddings and our thrilling ice hockey and they want a piece of that action.  Who wouldn’t?  Only one thing is stopping them: only one thing is saving this country from invasion.  And so, while I disapprove of their secrecy, I have to tip my hat to the clever tactics of those CSIS super-spies.  Your average Canuck can sleep peacefully in his or her bed at night, kept safe by our sleepless patrols of robot moose.

Despite my healthy respect for the skill it’s taken to pull off this massive ruse, I’m still dedicated to the truth.  And now you know, friends: pass it on.  Don’t be duped.

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3 Responses to Defenders of the great white north.

  1. mollie says:

    So that moose I saw standing in the middle of the road in N.S. was a robot spying on me, making sure I wasn’t making plans to stay in your fair country, hm?

  2. Ashley says:

    When we lived at the lake, a moose spent on entire afternoon slowly making her way through the marshy area near the lakeshore. We watched her from the deck for half a day – and she watched us.

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