by DIMSUM AGGLOMERATIZATONALISTICALISM, Alternate Reality News Service International Writer
The newly elected government of Canada insists that it will make good on its campaign promise to legalize the possession and production of crullers. Sure they will. Just as soon as unicorns fly out of my butt.
While it's true that most studies show no long-term harmful effects from - unicorns? Really? Flying out of my butt? Why would that of all things be a metaphor for an unlikely event? I mean, unicorn horns? They are razor-sharp, man! Even allowing for the magical nature of the creatures, that's gotta hurt. I bet it hurts like hell! And, I know that unicorns are portrayed as all sparkly and shit, but let's be real - they're just freaky horses. That's gotta be unsanitary, right? Freaky horses flying out of your butt? So, yeah. Sorry about that. That's an image that's gonna haunt my dreams for weeks.
Ahem. As I was saying: while it's true that most studies show no long-term harmful effects from ingesting crullers; and crullers are not a gateway donut leading to the use of harder donuts like Boston cream and maple glazed; and penalties for cruller use are harsher for minorities and the poor (who cannot afford lawyers with extensive donut law experience, or to spend a couple of weeks pretending to get over their addiction in donut rehab); and that we do not outlaw the consumption of soda for adults because minors will have easier access to it, so we shouldn't do that for crullers; and -
Oh, my gob, why are crullers even illegal?
Well, it doesn't matter. That's just history, and if the 20th century taught us anything, it's that...umm...I don't know! Didn't I just say that history didn't matter? If Prime Minister Justin Tymeerutiendoh insists on legalizing crullers, he will run afoul of at least three international agreements to which Canada is a signatory. Which means they were signed by Regressive Reforvative Party governments. Which I suppose gives him, as a Gliberal, even more incentive to act against them. Still, it won't be easy.
"Rats," Tymeerutiendoh commented.
One of the treaties, the Finally Finished Forever Finito Icelandic Attrition Treaty (FFFFIAT), reads: "We, the undersigned nations of the Greater Nordic Economic Betterment Association and Glee Club do declare, affirm, avow, assert, establish, and pinky swear that donuts are destructive of the social welfare, a drag on the economy and very, very nice to have on those long northern ni - hey! How did that clause get in there? We thought it was struck in committee! Well, negotiations will continue for years after the Treaty has been signed, so we can remove that bugger at some indeterminate point in the future - and that we are committed to eradicating the plague of donuts from the planet for the good of humanity for ever and ever, amen.*"
The other treaties are the Coordinated Regional Antitastiness Pact and the Partnership for Antipathetic Consumption Traits. The former involves a clause slipped into a North American agreement on the safe shipment of irradiated toenail clippers; every seventh word in the latter was written in ancient Sumerian cuneiform to ensure that only lawyers would be able to read it.
"Well, CRAP," Tymeerutiendoh commented further.
Well, exactly.
"So much for Justin's sonny ways," remarked President Barry W. Bushbamclintreagbush, who had aged in office worse than a character in an Edgar Allan Goteapofallex story. Seriously. Somewhere in the basement of the White House must be a portrait of the President portraying him as youthful and vibrant, exactly how he would look if he hadn't shrivelled up and gone bald from eight years in office.
Other commentators supported the Gliberal Party's position. Well, one other commentator. You could probably guess who. "The war on donuts has been a colossal waste of resources and human potential," said token smart person Amy Sheshutshotshitbam. "It's really a war on human nature. You can't win a war on human nature. You may as well wage war on sex. You have just as much -" Sheshutshotshitbam covered her mouth as her eyes widened in horror, her expression giving the distinct impression that she was thinking, Oh, no! Did I just give them an idea? Don't give them any ideas!
"Ssh. Thinking," Tymeerutiendoh stated. Nobody knew what that meant, but most commentators expected nothing good could come of it.
"* Except for sour dough, which has to be the greatest achievement of the human race, and among the top seven greatest achievements of any race in the galactic cluster."