The above is an American’s attempt at a Canadian maple leaf, the kind so beautifully realized on our lovely and unique flag – stars are so 1777.

Then Travis picked it up and started a flag meme. That’s right, Canadians. Draw a Canadian maple leaf right now, without looking at a flag and post it on your blog.

Jen of World Wide Watercooler took up the challenge. So far, no other Canadians have engaged in this patriotic exercise.

Just for the record, here’s my contribution, before all the madness started:

Those years of lost Canada Days, face-painting Canada flags on preschoolers’ faces at festivals, were not lost after all.

Update: Saskatchewan maple leaf here.

Originally uploaded by Chief Ten Bears.

As I made dinner last night, I swear to god these sausages fried into curly shapes on their own and tumbled out of the skillet, more or less, to spell one of the most belaboured words in the english language.

Some people read heavily into random occurrences, like seeing Jesus in a tortilla or whatever. I’m gonna completely ignore this message.

Chief Ten Bears‘ sausages are conveying a message from the beyond. The Babylonians were famous for hepatoscopy, divination by way of entrails, but it was Shakespeare that made it famous via the Romans. Remember Julius Caesar.

These sausages, however, belong in a more obscure branch of hepatoscopy, called extispicy, or divination by anomolies in entrails, and then in an even more obscure branch of extiscpicy, called botulomancy, or divination by sausage.

Botulomancy predicts the future by sausage, hot dog, tube steak, smokies, bangers, haggis, head cheese, meatloaf, pâté, foie gras and even spam. Veggie dogs are exempt, however.

In this instance, the word fuck refers not to the English term for having sexual intercourse but to the Romanian, transliterated for the English-speaking household that Chief Ten Bears undoubtably represents. Fuck is the Romanian fac (“I do”), drawn from the infinitive a face, or to do. It is often misinterpreted by the English majority as a fuck you! when a member of the Romanian diaspora utters a polite fac eu! (I’ll do it!).

In other words, this case of botulomancy exhorts action. Do something.

Chief, have your chorizo sausage since spelled out any other messages? Do your taxes? Move your house from the flood plains? Change your hairstyle?

For the inaugural meeting of my newly-formed bookclub, MaikoPunk, Matt and I will be eating cake to celebrate Margaret Atwood’s first published novel and our first club pick, The Edible Woman. The cake, of course, will be shaped like a woman.

“That could be tough to follow up for future books,” says Matt. “If most book titles were interpreted literally, it would be tragic at best.”

“Have you killed the salesman yet?”
“No, he’s still struggling, but I’ll have it done before the meeting.”