Bet Your Bottom Loonie

Dear Friends,

I used to wonder if my life would have been easier if I had committed to writing one dirty limerick a month rather than one song a month. Probably not. Undoubtedly, life would have been more glamorous, but not easier. There are only so many stories one can tell about a man from Nantucket, and the pressure to come up with new variations that don't sound derivative would be overwhelming. I'll stick with songs for now.  The new one for this month is called, "Why Won't You Cry?"

Here's a brain teaser. Fill in the blank:

"The Sisterhood of the Traveling ____"

The correct answer is that there isn't a correct answer. It's a trick question. The sentence makes no sense, because the blank is in the wrong spot. It should be The Sister ____hood of the Traveling, and the answer is, "City Increases the Likeli."

Sorry. If it was easy, it wouldn't be a brain teaser.

Visiting a Sister City is like borrowing your best friend's shorts. (Yes, I said shorts, not pants. Why do you keep bringing up pants?) Ann Arbor has a half dozen, and each sister is more twisted than the last. I, for one, intend to sightsee the living hell out of all of them.

In recent years, I provided exhaustive stereotype-free travel guides for Hikone, Dakar, and Tübingen. Today, we stand parallel to the world map and crane our necks backwards to examine our Sister in the far North: Peterborough, Ontario.

Nestled on the Ontonabee River, Peterborough is a strikingly small city, appropriately named for handsome screen actor Peter Dinklage.

English is the first language of most residents, but their proximity to Quebec gives them ample opportunities to speak with hilarious French accents, much like the city's namesake, handsome screen actor Peter Sellers.

Known as the "Electric City," Peterborough was the first municipality in Ontario to install wall outlets in every residential home and commercial igloo. The coal-burning electric plants have led to an alarming rash of lung cancer, with a prevalence comparable to that of the city's namesake, handsome television news anchor Peter Jennings.

After AC and DC electricity, tourism is Peterborough's third largest industry. The array of museums, theaters, and cultural exhibitions never seems to grow old, much like the city's namesake, handsome musical cross-dresser Peter Pan.


Peterborough, Ontario - Quick Facts and Guesstimates
Population (February 2016): 80,000
Population (February 2017): Unknown millions, when 49% of the population of the United States fulfills their promise to move to Canada after someone they hate is elected president.
Most common occupations, age under 60: Lumberjack, fur trader, being a flying squirrel
Most common occupation, age over 60: Not being drafted in the Vietnam War
Namesake of City: Handsome singer-songwriter Peter Frampton
Most popular TV show: The Biggest Hoser
What to do if attacked by a grizzly bear: Act like a fish. Then it will hit your head against a rock to stun you before mauling you.
Most popular hate group: The Neo-NotZeds
Legendary hero: Some medieval knight who body-checked a dragon into the walls of a castle.
Other Popular Folk Tales: There are plenty of good ones. When it comes to Canadian mythos, this Digest is not my first beaver rodeo.
Motto: Always carry a camera, in case you need to prove you saw a Sasquatch secretly paying his respects at the grave of a deceased Mountie.
Namesake of City: "Pedro" from Napoleon Dynamite, who is muy guapo
Traditional prom corsage: A bouquet of Molson bottles taped to moose antlers
Driving time to Ann Arbor: 5h 23m by car, 20h 13m by dogsled, 132h 31m by Zamboni (because you have to go back and forth three times to cover the entire road.)
Favorite Judy Blume book: "Tales of a Grade Four Nothing."

With warmest regards,
Zach

The Best Lore in Canandia

Dear Friends,

     

The Hard Taco song for May is called, "Blankety Blank." Don't be afraid to listen to it at double speed. 

MYTHS AND FOLK TALES OF CANADA

In my travels, I found myself deeply moved by the rich folklore tradition of our neighbors to the North.  For the digest this month, I am reprinting excerpts from my favorite compendium of Canadian folk legends ("Grandma, Where Do Igloos Come From?") and my favorite book of Canadian ghost stories ("The Bloody Puck").

The Newfoudland Bull Moose: Twenty miles west of St. John's, there is sinkhole that is believed to be the home of a spectral bull moose named San Yarnford. Once every hundred years, San Yarnford emerges from the recesses of his dank basin to let children stroke his antlers and to warn them of the perils of playing too close to sinkholes. 

The Leaning Trapper: There once was a trapper who roamed the vasty wilds of Labrador. He was a simple man, and he believed that iron snares were an indulgence. Instead, he would sleep at a 45 degree angle, propping his shoulders with a stick. Inevitably, a beaver would brush against the stick and knock it over, causing the sleeping trapper to fall on the animal. The more the beaver struggled, the sleepier and heavier the trapper would become. In honor of this legendary trapper, it is now customary for every trading post to be guarded by two sleeping men propped on sticks. 

The Silent Howls: A wealthy French furrier offered a woman nine pure white huskies for her hand in marriage. When she accepted, the huskies immediately set upon her, and tore fissures in her trunk and limbs. She slowly regained her constitution over many months, during which time her only companions were the wretched ice chiggers who spoon-fed her a slurry of nutrient plaster. When she was finally strong enough to lift her head, she slew the nine huskies and fashioned a fanny pack from their nine snow white dewlaps. If you walk the shores of Port Alice on a still night, you can still hear the spirits of the nine huskies, trying in vain to howl without their dewlaps.

The Wendigo: The Algonquian Indians believe that there are feral people with unnatural size who live in wooded areas and eat other people. It is believed that this is based loosely on the Winnebago Legend, in which the feral people park recreational vehicles in wooded areas and eat other people. 

The Purloined Skull: In the early days of McGill University, a heady young chess enthusiast wrote in the margins of his journal, "I have discovered a rook that can travel diagonally as well as linearly. I must share this with the scientific community at once before they com..." The last word trailed off at an angle, almost as if the author's skull had been taken mid-sentence. Nobody knows who purloined his skull. Was it an anatomy professor?  A spurned lover? A Fraternal Order of Ivy League Chess Reactionaries? Could I convince you that the true answer is... all three, working in cahoots?

The Golden Chin: A Micmac warrior lost his chin in battle, and replaced it with a chin of gold. His four younger brothers were envious of the golden chin and used guile to wrest it from him. The warrior saw through their deceit, however, and never removed his chin. One day, the youngest brother handed the warrior a piece of parchment enumerating the deeds of their ancestors. So afraid was the warrior that the document would blow away that he placed his golden chin on top of it as a paperweight. At once, the younger brother seized the chin, and ran off into the gulches. To commemorate his own folly, the humbled warrior commissioned a replacement chin made of Atlantic cod.

The Fox and the Magic Clasp: It is said that Glorious Jim the Prospector was tracking an elusive ingot through the marshes of Fort George when he came upon an axe wedged in a tree trunk. He knew that if he removed the axe, he would be crowned King of the Loggers, but he was not strong enough to do so. He stayed with the axe through the winter's night, neglecting shelter, neglecting food, and forgetting the precious ingot he had been following for so many days. When his fellow prospectors found his frozen body the next morning they gave him a traditional prospector burial, which consisted of sifting his remains through a pan. To this day, nobody knows why this legend is called "The Fox and the Magic Clasp."

With warmest regards,

Zach