The supporters of the poor unfortunate Iranian reformist presidential candidate were out in throngs on the streets of Halifax, and, so I hear, in Boston, Newfoundland and Dublin too, drinking as fast and as hard as they could, and all clad in green.
Seeing the girls cavorting in incredibly tight bright grass green miniskirts, with bright green shiny spangles in their hair and woven around their legs, the boys in funny bright grass green costumes (huge floppy hats! shiny green bowties!), it was impossible not to notice that the devotees of the Irish St. Patrick favour the exact same colour as the reformist protestors, now gently pushed into the background on the Iranian scene. Or perhaps not. I don’t really know. I never really did.
An association which I can guess is lost on my native Canadian counterparts.
Times like this, and I think Canadian immigration policy-makers are stark raving mad. How can they ever hope to create a coherent, understanding, sympathetic society when the members have such wildly differing worldviews? These are not minor differences I am talking about. These are huge gaping chasms. I see green clothing and think of blood and screams, you see green amd think of beer. I am not making a value judgement here- I envy you! I wish our girls could wear tiny green tops and skirts and dance drunk in the evening dusk! What am I doing here anyway?!!
Happy St. Patrick’s day, Mr. Mousavi and Mrs. Rahdar. Why don’t you visit Halifax on St. Patrick’s day to see the true extent of your followers?