The Slumbering Lungfish Dybbuk Hostel and All-Night Boulangerie

Once again, my biggest laugh was from the byline (not to cast aspersions on the column itself). Life simply doesn't provide enough good excuses to use the word "daguerreotype".

You know, I discovered a disturbing fact while I lived in Canada:

All Canadians love golf.

All of them. I, too, experienced a fist-shaking episode when confronted with this fact. I'd say that more Canadians enjoy golf than enjoy hockey. It's enough to make one cringe.

A few years back, my roomate got invited to "Frisbee Golf" with one of his hippie friends. While he was awaiting the hippiemobile, he scrounged all the frisbees out of the garage.

"What the fuck are those?" asked the hippie while glancing askance at my roomie's pile of frisbees.

"Um, frisbees. We are playing frisbee golf, right?"

To which the hippie replied, "You don't play frisbee golf with frisbees," his voice seething with disdain at this obviously boneheaded suggestion. "You play with these," and pulled out his red, yellow and blue discs.