Beware Of The No-Goat Zone

Back in 2006 a Swiss man was caught speeding on a Canadian highway.

The cop radared the violator going 161 km/h (100mph) in a 100 km/h (60mph) zone 1.

The foreign driver apologized for his transgression and explained to the traffic officer that he was taking advantage "of the ability to go faster without risking hitting a goat".

Canadian police spokesman Joel Doiron said he had never found a goat on the highways of eastern Ontario in his 20 years of service, but also added, "Nobody's ever used the lack of goats here as an excuse for speeding. I've never been to Switzerland, but I guess there must be a lot of goats there," he said.

The Swiss driver was ordered to pay a fine of C$360 ($330; £175) for speeding.

ps the above photo is of a mountain goat on a road running through Banff Park in Alberta, Canada.

And I see goats.

ps there are about 70,000 goats in Switzerland and the same number in Canada.

But of course the goat density in Switzerland is greater.

And they are everywhere.

Because It's 2015

After being appointed Canada's Prime Minister Justin Trudeau named a cabinet of 50% women and 50% men. When asked why, the young leader simply said, "Because it's 2015."

He also included four Sikhs, one of whom will run the Ministry of Defence.

Veteran Harjit Singh Sajjan was declared a badass by the media.

The Sikh have earned that reputation as a warrior religious caste from the Punjab.

They believe in peace through strength.

Unlike the US War Czar Ashton Carter, another suck-up for the Pentagon Military-Industrial Complex.

War at any cost is their motto.

And why?'

Because in the USA it's still 1951.

Ted Cruz The Canuck

CNN reported that GOP Senator Ted Cruz of Texas has won a straw poll Republican Leadership Conference in New Orleans this week over Dr. Ben Carson, rightwing radical, and libertarian Rand Paul. GOP supporters from the far right and Tea Party are enthused about the senator's presidential bid, even though he was born outside of the USA in communist Canada to a Cuban father and American mother. The Democrats have yet to make an issue out of his birth status, however no one has accused the potential candidate of coming from Kenya and the conservatives at this meeting know their birth rights. Same as Ted Cruz. Oh, Canada. ps the GOP 2008 presidential candidate John McCain was born in Panama and the 2012 candidate was born to Mormon parents and lived in France for thirty months during the 60s. Mitt also speaks fluent French.

A PAINTER PAINTING A PICTURE by Peter Nolan Smith

Hitchhiking was the only way to travel between Boston and Montreal in the early 1970s. The trip was a scenic 400 miles on I-89 slanting across New Hampshire and Vermont to Lake Champlain then north into Quebec.

On one trip in August of 1971 a longhair driving a van said that he needed money for gas.

I gave him $5.

He took me from Lebanon to St. Albans with Jethro Tull on the 8-track When I got out of the car, the longhair handed me a horse choker pill an inch long.

"It's LSD." The hippie flashed a peace sign and his iris wavered in size. "Very strong. Take it with friends and don't look in a mirror."

"I know better than that." I had once stared at my shimmering reflection for hours on Orange Sunshine.

"Thanks for the gas."

A gallon was 35 cents. $5 was good for a week's driving.

I flashed him the peace sign and stood on the interstate's shoulder. The next ride took me to the border. Canadian immigration officer asked for a driver's license. Mine was valid and the man saluted my entrance into his country.

Two hours later I was drinking beer with my New Zealand friends at Winston Churchill Pub. My Irish friends were playing a gig off St. Catherine. Afterward a night of Celtic revels several French girls came home to Benny's apartment on Barat Street. I showed them the LSD pill.

"On fait."

"Bonne idee." My French wasn't good, but the night wore a velvet darkness. A bootleg version of Pink Floyd's MEDDLE was on the Denon turntable. I divided the powdered pill into sections.

1/3 for the four girls.

1/3 for my three friends.

1/3 for me.

One hour.

Nothing.

Jefferson Airplane's AFTER BATHING AT BAXTERS.

A flash of light warbled from the corner of my eyes, as the girls danced with POO NEIL. My friends held the album cover in their hands and we chanted, "A painter painting a picture of a painter painting a picture of a painter painting...."

The LP art shrank into a microscopic sub-universe of time and space with each descending layer funnier than the last.

Dawn broke on the St. Lawrence with stars melting into the sky.

We chanted, "A painter painting a picture of a painter painting a picture of a painter painting...." one last time and returned home for sleep.

I slept with a girl named Cheree, whose flesh was soft as still air. Our unsleeping eyes were dilated to coal pits. She spoke French, no English, but chanted with an Irish accent, "A painter painting a picture of a painter painting a picture of a painter painting...." until the words drifted into a mutter and her skin turned to feathers.

It took me a long time to come down.

Cheree was my parachute.

She gave me a soft landing.

No crash.

"A painter painting a picture of a painter painting a picture of a painter painting...."

I'm glad that my mind remembered Cheree's name.

And after this many years I'm glad that I remember my name too.

That LSD was strong as shit.

Vraiment.