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‘Tis the season to be fobbed off
Fa la la la la, la la – la – la!

From October, 2019.

Skipping rhymes for Gen Z

These kids are the future. Assuming we have one.


I’VE BEEN UNDERCOVER IN MY SAILOR SUIT AND adorable Hudson’s Bay dress shorts (available in Québec only in polyester, due to the current shortage of “pure laine;” nous sommes très très fucking désolés), chatting about Dr Seuss and reminiscing about The Friendly Giant with unsuspecting school-age Gen Zed-ers as they go about their daily activities.

You remember the drill: Get to school, line up your Venus pencils in careful gradients and start coloring the edges of your maps if you’re a girl, or roll up some paper spitballs and practice farting noises if you’re a boy.

Or, if you’re a gay boy, line up your Venus pencils in careful gradients and watch all the other boys roll spitballs and practice their farting noises before they beat you up after gym class, thus laying the foundation for a truly world-class sexual fetish about a decade later.

Some traditions never change.

My mandate —which, unbelievably, I had to give to myself after MacLean’s Magazine was so snarky about the pitch, thanks a bunch, Ms Barbara Lucrezia Borgia Gutenberg Amiel—was to find out how much political savvy these kids had absorbed in this age of 24/7 connectivity, deep fakes, and Hallowe’en nights when mom and dad insist on driving them door to door so they can keep tabs, mooch the candy and spoil, to the very last iota, the fun of wearing DIY handsewn Beyoncé costumes.

Make no mistake: I was in constant danger of having my cover blown, and there was more than one occasion when I was eyed with suspicion by some chocolate-milk-mustached freckle-faced rascal of a boy, or prim, annoying little girl who’d just had her best party dress splashed with mud by some Grade Eight dude on a Canadian Tire mountain bike.

I tell you, looking authentic while trading prosciutto di Parma and Dijon mustard sliders on artisanal focaccia at lunch break, or fake-crying when it was time for yet another “milk and cookies power-nap,” stretched my humorous-blogger incognito reporting skills, and my already gossamer-thin patience, to the limit and beyond.

But I did net the following cultural gold: Non-traditional skipping rhymes, who knew, and I have to say these kids are the future.

And it’s off I go for another “Ankle-Biter” portion of chicken nuggets and French fries at Pickle Barrel or I’ll start to get cranky around four o’clock, which is typically when my ADHD kicks in.

Skipping Rhymes of Gen Z

Out in Victoria

Out in Victoria
Real estate’s a bitch

“Hordes of Asians
Stinking rich

Racist Canadians
Cry, “What cheek!
How many condos
this week?

One condo
Two condos
Three condos

Mandarin on
A red front door

Five condos
Six condos
Seven condos

White people want to

Cut down trees
And pave the lawn

Now watch Chinese
Tai Chi at dawn!

—Traditional, West Coast.


Justin Scandals, Count How Many

Justin scandals
Count how many

ONE for blackface
How embarrassing

TWO for a journalist’s
Sexual harassing

THREE for India
Shoe toes curly
Wearin’ a sari
Lookin’ all girly

Justin scandals
Count how many

FOUR for Jody
Attorney G
He broke her balls
Over SNC

FIVE for comrade
Castro, Fidel
He eulogized
So we gave him hell

SIX is the pipeline
We don’t like
Tell Alberta
To take a hike

Feminist! Faggot!
Drama teacher!

Is not a feature!

Seven, Eight, Nine
WE charity guys
Employed his family
(Big surprise!)

The interns waved
Goodbye to summer
And so it went
From dumb to dumber

A charity had
Met its doom
Cause JT
Couldn’t leave the room

—Ottawa valley, possibly First Nations origins

If Andrew Scheer
Were At The Top

If Andrew Scheer
Were at the top

How many abortions
would he stop?

One a day
Two a day
Three four five?

Those embryos

Rusty coat hanger
Dish soap mild
Jump off a table

And lose that child!

If Andrew Scheer
Could have his way

He’d lock you up
If you were gay!

And if you think
That it’s political
He calmly claims
“It’s quite Levitical!”

Friends of Dorothy
AIDS you’re dead
Three-legged dogs

In a marriage bed!

Seven in leather
Or eight in drag

He’ll make it cool
To kill a fag!

Maxime Bernier Isn’t Gay

Maxime Bernier
Isn’t gay
He just likes to
Be au fait

Maxime Bernier
Why so camp?
It’s just contextual

“Be my girlfriend
Julie, sweet!
Should be discreet!

“Beard me, Julie
Just this one time
(You’ve got bikers
For a fun time)


“Beard me three times
Beard me four—

Top-Secret files
On your bedroom floor!

“Beard me five six
Seven Eight Nine
I must resign!!”

Maxime Bernier
Isn’t gay
Julie says:
“He’s not ‘zat way’!”

And frankly,
whether queer
Or straight
She only fucks for
Real estate.


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