News With a Fuse

January 24, 2008

Controlling our Borders, eh?

While we’re fighting to control all of the people coming in our borders, our nation has developed a skyrocketing dependence on foreign imports. Everything and everyone is infiltrating our country, with one of the most elusive problem right in our backyard.

That’s right, I’m talking about Canadian Comeic Sleeper Cells, (CCSC). Not only are Canadians smuggling in their politeness and similar pennies, but also comedy.

The CCSC have more easily disguised accent that their British Commonwealth counterparts. They blend in, slowly permeating U.S. comedy circles, peddling their bootlegged laughs into our underground comedy clubs. Yes, they’re comedy mules, using their bodies to get their black-market hysterical humor here to sell for profit. Some even get enough Americans hooked to rise through the ranks to become Comedy Kingpins or Laugh-Lords.

You might even be unknowingly harboring these quit-witted people on your TiVo, iPhone, or DVD collection. I’m talking about Samantha Bee, John Candy, Jim Carrey, Jason Jones, Martin Short, Dan Aykroyd, Mike Myers, Caroline Rhea, and the big guy, the mac daddy, the top banana, Lorne Michaels! Oh, and you’re not fooling anyone Tommy Chong of Cheech and Chong, I know where you're from.

That’s right, they’re all hockey-loving Canucks, silently snuggled in between our Jon Stewarts and Ray Romanos.

We’ll let other nationalities into our dramas, our documentaries, hell, even our beds with their sexy accents, but come on, we have standards, we’re not going to let just anyone into our comedy! There are rules about these things. As a nation, we can’t agree on wars, abortion or taxes, but we unite for comedy.

Prime example, The Office - hysterical British TV show. Do we take to it like Germans and a David Hasselhoff show? No, we make our own hit show with American actors because of regulatory comedic standards. It’s like prescription drugs, you can’t just bring it in from anywhere. These things have to be certified.

The last British comedian Americans embraced as a collective body of people was Charlie Chaplin. That’s because he kept his cockney trap shut!

Sure, you might think Rowan Atkinson is funny, but the nation isn’t behind you. As a nation, we don’t have your back. Mr. Bean is too formal of a stage name for our informal society. If he had gone with Buttah Bean or Lim A. Bean, he might have had a chance.

I know, I could google and find an Australian or New Zealand comedian that is hilarious, but the average American wouldn’t know them. Hell, the average American doesn't know where New Zealand is on the map.

We search the globe looking for the best, then compartmentalize things. We’re a country that gets our IT phone operators from India, our toys from China, our dry-cleaners from Korea, and our kiddy-porn from Thailand. So it’s only fitting that we’d import our comedy from Canada.

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