"Why does everybody hate me?"
Canada and the United States were sharing some late afternoon good cheer at The Forty-ninth Parallel. The talk seemed inconsequential, almost painfully innocuous given the events of the past few days, when the United States blurted out the question. It sounded hurt. Canada quickly calculated the number of F-111s it had had (too many - they were like B52s, only with a stronger kick), and took a deep breath before responding.
"I'm sure you're exaggerating," Canada said, but with little conviction.
"Oh, yeah?" the United States wiped its mouth with its sleeve, a sure sign that protocol had been abandoned. "France, Italy and Greece refused to let us use their airspace. Russia and all the Arab countries denounced us. There were protests all over - you'd have thought we'd bombed the Vatican, not Libya!"
"Thought you'd picked a popular target, eh?" Canada observed.
The United States tried to send a nasty look across the table, but found itself unable to focus properly, looking, instead, like a hurt Marty Feldman. "What do you mean by that?" it asked, trying to sound tough, but having to settle for being loud.
Canada sipped its tea thoughtfully. (This late in the afternoon, Canada usually ordered a vodka and chocolate milk, known locally as a Brown Bull; but, out of deference to its drinking partner's sensitivity to the products of certain countries, it had held back.) "If hitting back at terrorists was your aim," Canada asked, "why didn't you attack two other Arab countries that are heavily involved in it, Syria and Iran?"
"Why didn't we?" the United States belligerently responded. It tried to pick up the glass on the table in front of it, but found its hand clutching air. "Umm...I forget. Why didn't we?"
"Because," Canada reasonably explained, "both Syria and Iran have better Armed Forces than Libya , and, being inland, would make harder targets. As well, you must have expected approval from most other countries because nobody trusts Khadafy, not even his closest Russian and Arab allies."
"Oh," the United States absently responded. If it hadn't been drunk and concentrating on getting its hand around a glass of alcohol, the world's mightiest democracy might have taken offence at being given a lecture on its own foreign policy.
Canada wondered if it should take the United States home, then figured it might never have this opportunity again, and pressed on. "It's only to be expected that the other Arab nations would condemn the attack. Not only do they have strong religious and ideological bonds, but they have to figure that if you're willing to attack Libya because it supports terrorism, they might be next."
"Damn right," the United States muttered, putting its other hand on the table in hopes of outflanking the glass.
"And, you certainly can't blame Russia," Canada continued, "for taking advantage of the situation by publicly lambasting you. But, Russia moved its warships out of Libya before the attack, and could have given Khadafy an hour's warning that your planes were approaching, but didn't. And, OPEC was called upon to place an embargo on oil to America, but they didn't. So, all these protests sound pretty hollow..."
The United States, which had finally managed to get its hands around the glass, threw its arms wide apart in a gesture of futility, spraying a couple of small African nations at a nearby table. "But," it insisted, "why were all those European countries against us?"
Canada knowingly, perhaps a bit pompously, shook its head. "Most of them were afraid that the attack was going to bring more terrorist activity down on them," Canada told the United States. "After all, the attacks don't take place on American soil; they mostly happen abroad."
"But, if the European nations had gone along with an economic boycott of Libya, all of this bloodshed would have been unnecessary."
Canada sighed. "To my knowledge, there are still five American oil companies working in Libya. If you really wanted to put economic pressure on Khadafy, you could have pulled them out, right?"
"Oh." The United States grimaced. Canada couldn't tell if it was because of what had been said, or because the United States had discovered its glass was empty.
"The whole episode has brought anti-American sentiment back to the surface," Canada added. "Most countries resent your interference, especially because of your attitude. You are so insistent, to the point of arrogance, that your political system and way of life are better than anybody else's..."
"Isn't it?" the United States asked, putting its glass down in disgust, ignoring the fact that it had missed the table and the glass fell to the floor.
Canada shrugged. "You do tend to be incredibly materialistic, which older cultures find shallow...a touch oversensitive to criticism...somewhat self-centred. Not only that, but you haven't heard a word I said, have you?"
"Can I have another?" the United States petulantly asked.
"I think it's time to go," Canada said, rising. When it appeared that the United States was in no condition to stand, Canada came to its side to lend support. "Next time," Canada softly suggested, "remind me to explain how I feel about you..."
